Doctor O
by JeSuisUnePomme
Summary: SuFin. Modern/Human Medical Office AU. Tino came to the sudden realization that he had fallen in love with his strange, quiet, prosthetic-tinkering, workaholic, kind-hearted boss, Dr. O. Berwald had his heart stolen by the cheery office assistant since the first time he laid eyes on Tino's penmanship. About love, tragedy, and family coming together. Updated weekly.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note:** This story takes place in a **medical office**. Sweden (Berwald) was a doctor in a trauma ward and now works in prosthetics (helping people with missing limbs). **Trigger warnings may apply**. Some of the Hetalian cast may be physically altered in order to fit the setting (this includes anything from age to physical appearance re: having suffered past trauma). Please see my profile for a list of characters and their role in my mediverse.

OCs will only be included as filler characters. Any likeness to a real person is not intended (except in the case of Mr. Daniels who is based off my own father).

Pairings: Sweden x Finland.

I hope you enjoy this little tale I've dreamed up.  
Apple

* * *

The realization that Tino was in love with Berwald hit him like an anvil out of thin air.

Tino entered Berwald's office after a brief _tap-tap_ on the door frame as he did every morning. Berwald hunched over his desk, tinkering with what looked to be an elbow and forearm atop a mountain of paperwork. Grinning, Tino slid the stack of papers he was holding in front of the man, blonde head still bowed down in concentration, large hands fiddling with a screwdriver.

"Here's the imaging reports you had requested last night," he waited until he was sure the blue eyes behind glasses saw where he was putting the papers before he let go, fully aware they would soon be lost in the mess of the desk, as did any paperwork when Berwald was tinkering. "And your coffee!" he held out the cup of steaming liquid and waited for the other man to look up.

With a sigh, Berwald put down his screwdriver and (?arm) whatever he was working on, eyes flickering upwards to look at Tino.

Cerulean met with lavender and Tino's heart suddenly decided to stop working properly.

"Thank you, T'no," Berwald muttered, his fingertips briefly brushing against Tino's as he took the cup from his hands. Tino gasped and stumbled backwards when the cup was safely in the hands of his boss. Berwald arched a brow at him in wonder, but said nothing.

Tino had worked with Berwald for several years now. Previously, Tino had been the receptionist in the Pediatric Ward of a major hospital, and Berwald – _Doctor_ B. Oxenstierna – was one of the doctors in the trauma ward of the same hospital. While they worked in different units and on different floors, there were a handful of times when they had professionally crossed paths. One day, very suddenly, Berwald had appeared in front of Tino's desk, scowling down at him, and he said, "s'place is no good. I'm leavin', you should, too." Tino gaped at him, "you've nice penm'nship. You should work for me."

Nice Penmanship?!

That was hardly a reason to leave a steady job; but, the hospital politics were sometimes a bit much and so, for some reason, Tino decided to quit and follow the strange, quiet doctor (and quickly wondered if he had made a terrible mistake).

Berwald, Dr. O, opened his own private prosthesis and rehabilitation practice and Tino was his assistant.

The first year was rough, and on more than one occasion Tino considered going back to the hospital and begging for his old job back. Berwald was not the most social person and he struggled to perform consults with new patients (though, several patients from his years as a doctor in the trauma ward had followed Berwald to his new clinic). He was much more interested in tinkering with prosthetic limbs and figuring out ways to help people than to actually _be_ with the people. So, he eventually asked (convinced?) others to join his clinic: the young Dr. Eduard VonBock and Dr. Raivis Galante worked part-time at the clinic and at local hospitals.

Tino, and his lovely penmanship, directly assisted Dr. O. Eventually, Tino fell into the role of Berwald's voice when speaking with clients, Tino himself usually conducted any new patient interviews in Berwald's schedule, while the doctor only sat in, a silent observer with his notepad.

Tino runs the office.

Which Berwald happily allows him, giving him more time to shut himself away in his office and design custom limbs for his patients.

Over time, Tino grew to know Berwald better than anyone else – although, this was not hard to do, the man was one of few words and fewer expressions. Tino had spare keys to his car, his house, his office. Tino knew the code to the safe behind the painting of stormy waves crashing around a lighthouse on a hill. Tino told Berwald when he had to be at work, and Tino told Berwald when it was best for him to go home and get some sleep.

It was a running joke in the office that the only way the two could get any closer would be if they were married. And so Tino was affectionately (annoyingly) referred to as Dr. O's wife (where this title originated it is not clear, though Eduard swears he heard Dr. O himself say it first).

As a dutiful partner, Tino brings any required paperwork: results, correspondence, charts, and a coffee to Dr. O every morning without fail, almost since they first opened the clinic.

The ritual is uneventful, familiar, and yet, this morning, everything changed.

Berwald's eyes were solidly fixed on Tino's as he stumbled back, grabbing the chair in front of the desk for momentary support. He regained his balance and clutched at his chest, his face hot as a blush bloomed in his cheeks.

Berwald only grunted, his expression unchanged. Tino knew the subtleties of his boss' face and immediately recognized the unspoken question that seemed to float in the air between them, '_what_?'

"I'm alright," Tino choked out, "just…" startled by your eyes? He looked at them every day, like an ocean early in the morning behind the lenses of wire-rimmed glasses. And yet they startled Tino this morning. He was equally startled by noticing how long Berwald's – _Dr. O's_ – blonde eyelashes really were, and how he would look up through them when Tino offered him his morning coffee. Blonde eyebrows slowly knit together and _Dr. O's_ scowl deepened.

Tino waved at the air, brushing away the 'what' that still seemed to hang there. "I'm fine!" With that, he spun on his heel and marched for the door, for safety.

He could feel _Dr. O_'s cold stare on his back as he slid out of the office and shut the door behind him with a quiet _click_.

Tino stood for a moment, back against the door, waiting for his heart rate to return to a normal rhythm and for the butterflies that were abruptly having a fit in the pit of his stomach to calm.

The unspoken '_what_' seemed to have trailed after him into the hall, and he waved at the air again, hoping to dismiss it. One glance from the man he'd known for the last several years, _his boss_, did not just make him weak in the knees. There is no '_what_' to answer to!

Once sufficiently collected, he straightened his shirt, and marched to the front of the office to take his place at the reception desk. As he approached, the door jingled merrily and Dr. VonBock strolled in, closely followed by Dr. Galante.

"…You don't understand, Ed." Raivis was saying as they entered, "this guy ate _20 paperclips_. There they all were, clear as day on the x-ray! Oh! Morning, Tino!"

"Good morning, Raivis, Eduard!" Tino replied merrily, happy for somebody else in the office to focus on. Eduard made his way towards the rehabilitation room, Raivis closely following, continuing his story about the paperclips.

The door chimed again and a man in his mid to late 50s with pepper-coloured hair and kind eyes walked in, smiling.

"Ah, Mr. Daniels!" Tino called

"No appointment today, Tino," he said warmly, approaching the desk before leaning on it, "I just need to order more stump socks, I wrecked one of mine while on holiday."

"Sorry to hear that!" Mr. Daniels was one of the regular customers at the clinic; he had lost one of his legs when he was a teenager in a farming accident. Dr. O met him at a winery one summer while on holiday. He had questioned him about his artificial leg and mentioned he might be able to help him with pain management with a new limb design he was working on. Mr. Daniels had been a customer ever since!

"How's the leg treating you?" Tino ask, gathering the appropriate paperwork.

"It's alright, been a bit sore the last couple days, but there's always good and bad days." he sighed sadly, but his smile remained. "Good morning, Berwald!"

Tino's heart suddenly stopped, his stomach dropping to his feet when he felt a large, warm hand clap down on to his shoulder. Mr. Daniels was smiling up at the person standing behind Tino, likely attached to the hand that was very gently squeezing Tino's shoulder. He heard the grunt of a reply. Tino looked back and Berwald was regarding Mr. Daniels with a passive expression, one side of his mouth upturned in a small (friendly) smile. His eyes flickered down to Tino's.

"H-he's just here to order more socks for his leg." Berwald – Dr. O, dammit – blinked slowly and Tino turned back to Mr. Daniels, "your leg is sore now, you say?" the hand on his shoulder squeezed again. "Dr. O will actually take a look at that leg, maybe there's something he can do for you." The hand left his shoulder and he knew Dr. O was heading to his examination room.

"Oh, it's no trouble!" Mr. Daniels started to protest, holding his hands up in defense.

"Nonsense, room one, you know where it is. I'll fill out the order forms for you and you can sign them on your way out." Mr. Daniels smiled in thanks and followed Dr. O to the exam room with a subtle limp in his step. Tino pretended to shuffle papers until he heard the exam room door snap shut.

After Mr. Daniels left, exiting the office while laughing at some joke shared between doctor and patient, Dr. O shut himself back in his office and the day fell into a regular rhythm.

Eduard saw his daily patients in the rehabilitation clinic (patients recovering from sport injuries to patients learning how to use new prosthetic limbs), and Raivis busied himself with paperwork, going over x-rays, and consulting with a new client in the afternoon. Dr. O only left his office to wander to the kitchen to make himself coffee before shutting himself away again.

* * *

Berwald had always known that a career in the medical profession would not be an easy one. For the most part, he could cope. But, for every patient he met, his heart would twist painfully in his chest for the suffering they likely had to endure in order to be seeing _him_. He worked hard to make sure his patients' lives would be as pain-free and comfortable as he could make it.

He sighed deeply and leaned back in his office chair, vision blurring with unshed tears. He would not cry, though, no matter how hard it was to work on the small arm in front of him. His battered emotions would nearly break him every time his patient was a child.

Children should not suffer the way adults do.

There was a light tap at the door, Berwald quickly wiped at the tears under his glasses before Tino's head popped in to view.

"Dr. O," he said softly, "it's getting late."

"You go," Berwald responded, "I need t' finish this." He gestured to the project on his desk. Tino's face contorted into a pursed-lip scowl, "I won't stay late." he hurriedly added. Tino nodded and raised a hand in goodbye before ducking out of the office.

He'd been off all day, his Tino.

He had not been oblivious to the way his cheeks had suddenly lit up in a deep blush first thing this morning, or how he jumped every time Berwald got near him throughout the day. He wondered what he had done to cause such strange behavior. Normally his wife was sunshiny and carefree – today he was tense and nervous.

This worried Berwald and simultaneously annoyed him. He pushed these thoughts from his head and bent over his project, returning to work.

He fell asleep at his desk.

"_Doctor_ O!" Berwald nearly fell out of his chair when he was violently awoken with a start. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, a painful kink knotted in the back of his neck. "_Did you sleep here_?!" Tino's face flushed red with what Berwald could only assume was anger. The small man slammed a to-go cup of coffee on the desk before crossing his arms across his chest, twisting his mouth into his most fierce scowl of disappointment.

Berwald had the decency to blush guiltily, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

"I couldn' leave before I finished," he said quietly, peeking up at Tino over the rims of his glasses. Tino looked visibly flustered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth like he was going to say something more, but was not quite able to. It was adorable.

Tino's eyes finally wandered down to the desk and what Berwald had been working on, widening a fraction.

"What is that?" he cried, pointing.

"'S an arm," Berwald said flatly.

"Yes, I can see it's an arm, Berwald," the blush on Tino's cheeks was spreading to his ears, and Berwald internally enjoyed the sound of his first name on the Finn's lips. "It's terribly small, isn't it?"

Berwald shook his head, silent for a minute, thinking over how to respond.

He settled for bluntly: "'S for a kid."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note: **This story takes place in a** medical office**. All standard warnings apply. This chapter contains conversation regarding a** traumatic car accident**, where not everyone survived. **Trigger warnings may apply**.

**Laura = Belgium**. I could not find a mainstream name for her.

* * *

__Sometime in August, 5 years earlier-__

* * *

It had been one of those nights where something bad had happened. Tino was sure the moment he walked through the double doors and in to the Pediatric Ward. All the doctors looked tired and strained. The nurses were not quite their usual chipper selves as they congregated at the reception desk.

"Tino!" A cheery voice called to him as he slid in to his office chair. "Good morning! Boy, am I glad you are here."

"Morning, Laura," Laura, one of the pediatric nurses, bounced up to the reception desk. Her light brown hair was a waving mess, barely contained by a thick, lavender headband. Her aqua scrubs looked as if she had slept in them recently. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes looked tired. "What happened?" Her smile faltered and she began to play with a piece of her flyaway hair.

"Oh, Tino, it was a long night," she heaved a heavy sigh, "there was a bad accident on the highway." Tino nodded, he had seen the headlines in the newspapers on his train to work.

"That was more than 30 kilometers from here, though... were those injured not taken to a hospital closer to the accident?" It didn't make sense that their hospital should have anything to do with accident, unless...

Laura was shaking her head, chewing on her bottom lip, "there was a young family..." Tino's heart sank. He saw hurt and sick children every day working in the Pediatric Ward, but he rarely experienced tragedy. Even working in near NICU, nothing too outrageous often happened. Babies were born then discharged to happy parents. It was easy to forget that the hospital he worked in was the place to bring complex cases involving children. After all, they had the best Head of Pediatrics, Dr. Bondevik.

Dr. Lukas Bondevik was one of the most beautiful people Tino had the pleasure of looking upon every day. His skin was fair, pale blonde hair fell in large waves around his face, often pinned back by a simple clip. His eyes were the most unusual shade of blue Tino had ever seen. His face was often set in an expression of passive-aggression, brows arched in a way that screamed sarcasm. He was soft-spoken, though, and good with children. Despite his non-smiling face, kids would flock to him and feel safe. On calm nights, he often sits in an activity room and tells fantastical stories about trolls and other magical creatures, using whatever kids listening as the heroes.

"How old?" Tino choked back the emotion that was starting to well up in his throat.

"Well," Laura was shaking her head again, eyes glazed as she thought for a minute. "A little girl... didn't make it. Her brothers are here, though." Tino waited for her to gather her thoughts before she continued, "one is here on this floor in Recovery, the other is still in surgery." Tino was glad he didn't read the newspapers past their headlines this morning. He wasn't sure he would have been able to stomach knowing more details of an accident that claimed the life of a child. "Dr. Kohler has been in the ER since the ambo brought them in at about midnight last night."

Dr. Mathias Kohler, the hospital's best trauma surgeon. He was young, energetic, and dedicated to his craft. He was tall, lean, and his sunshiny blonde hair seemed to defy gravity as it stood styled on end. His face was almost always split in a giant, laughing grin. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle like he knew something amusing and you didn't. For such a depressing ward, in Tino's opinion, he was always cheerful and laughing. Perhaps such a sunny person was exactly what Trauma and Emergency Medicine needed, someone to scare away the darkness and help patients cope with their severe injuries.

The rest of the morning seemed to pass in a blur. Tino went about his regular duties, his mind focused on the double doors he knew lead to the Recovery and Intensive Care wings. Trauma was a short elevator ride down a floor through the same hall. He wondered what was happening just outside of his view.

Near lunchtime, those double doors burst open and Dr. Bondevik stormed through, his long white coat billowing out behind him like a cloud. Dr. Kohler was hot on his heels, his face scrunched in an unusual expression of unease and frustration. There were dark bags under both of their eyes, their faces an unhealthy pallor. They seemed to have been mid-argument, but both held their tongues as soon as they were among general staff and milling patients. Dr. Bondevik did not slow as Dr. Kohler reached out to grab his sleeve, he simply brushed the surgeon's hand away as he stomped across reception and through another set of double doors.

"Lukas, __wait__!" Dr. Kohler cried as the doors slammed shut behind them.

Tino was hyper-aware that he needed to exit through the same doors that the two doctors flew through to get to his lunch. He hesitated until the other receptionist arched an eyebrow at him and waved for him to hurry along. He shuffled up to the doors and pushed them open. The hall was empty.

With a sigh of relief he made his way toward the staff room.

"Lukas, __listen __to me, I had to make a tough call." Tino tried not to eavesdrop, but couldn't help it when the voices were coming from an alcove to his immediate left. As he continued to walk, he slowed his steps and gave a sideways glace. Dr. Kohler had Dr. Bondevik pinned down, hands on the wall on either side of his head. Dr. Bondevik had his head turned away, arms crossed tight over his chest, a sour expression on his face. Dr. Kohler was leaning down, trying desperately to get the Pediatrician to look at him. "It was the kid's best option. I couldn't risk infection that would later kill him."

"You don't know that."

"I do, though."

"No!" Dr. Bondevik snapped his head to give Dr. Kohler a withering glare, "it could have been saved." Dr. Kohler was shaking his head. He pushed away from the wall, lifting his hands in surrender.

"I see these things every day, Lukas. It was a tough call, but the _right_ one to give the kid a chance."

Tino hurried his pace past the alcove when Dr. Kohler reached down and gathered Dr. Bondevik in to a tight embrace, murmuring in to his hair.

__What was going on?__

Tino retrieved his lunch, but did not feel like joining any of the people milling about the staff room. He felt like he was the only one who hadn't been working overnight. The general atmosphere was more tired and strained than normal, and Tino wasn't sure he could handle feeling like the only one in the crowd that didn't know exactly what was happening behind the double doors leading to the Intensive Care unit. So he found himself wandering the halls of the hospital. He rode the elevator down one floor, and continued to wander until he couldn't take it anymore.

He ducked in to a closet and fell against the door, breathing a sigh of relief. It was a full minute before he realized he wasn't alone.

"I - __ohmigosh__! I'm so sorry, I thought this would be... empty..."

A man was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, knees drawn to his chest, his face pale and eyes red-rimmed behind a steely pair of glasses. His short blonde hair was haphazard, almost as if he'd been holding his head in his hands for too long. His scrubs were navy, wrinkled, and there were deep red-brown stains on the front.

"Are you alright?!" Tino's head began to buzz as he realized those red stains were not fruit juice. He rarely had to deal with the sight of blood as a receptionist - he preferred to keep it that way if he could help it.

"Ah, ye'," the man on the floor choked out. He opened his mouth a few times like he was going to say something else, but the words would not come. His glare alone caused Tino to shrink back against the door, but his eyes seemed more sad than angry, so Tino stayed where he was.

"T-t-that's blood on your shirt, isn't it?"

The man looked down then back up at Tino, expression unchanged, but he scrambled to his feet, pulling at his scrub top awkwardly. "Ah, ye', sorry," He looked like he was about to pull the offending article of clothing off his person, then thought better of it. Instead, he stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to hide the stains under shaking hands.

"Doctor... _Oxenstierna_?" Tino squinted at the name tag hanging around his neck. "I'm sorry to interrupt you! I will go-"

"No!" Tino froze in his retreat, half turned away from the tall doctor. "Please, stay." He glanced back, the glare had slid from his face and was replaced by an expression of complete hopelessness. Tino turned to face him fully.

"Are you alright?" Tino was not quite sure what to do with his hands, his bagged lunch felt like an awkward weight. Doctors, even the ones he was on amicable terms with, did not tend to talk to him much outside of professionalism. Tino did not have much experience in dealing with doctors, despite working with them in such close proximity. He knew the emotional toll the career must have on them, but they generally did a good job of hiding their pain.

"No," Dr. O stated, he was staring at the floor between them. He looked to be on the brink of emotional collapse.

Then, before Tino could process his own thoughts, Dr. O sank to the floor again, weeping. Tino dropped his lunch and flew to the man's side, kneeling in front of him, hands hovering just over his shoulders. Does he touch him? Is that allowed? If this were one of his nurse friends he would have wrapped his arms around them in an instant; but, as soon as there was 'Doctor' in front of a name, that person somehow felt out of reach. Tino was just an office receptionist, nobody of importance in comparison.

"Oh gosh, doctor..!" he reached for the crying man, then hesitated, bringing his hands close to his chest and wringing them. Tino felt quite inconvenient as he watched the large man cry in front of him, he clucked his tongue and hovered just out of reach.

"She wa' jus' a wee thing." Dr. O looked up at Tino, eyes pleading, "no more'n four," he pushed his glasses to the top of his head and buried his face in his hands. Tino reached out now and wrapped his arms around Dr. O's wide shoulders, leaning his head against him.

"I know." Perhaps Tino was better off not knowing all the details of the accident. If this stone-faced doctor was weeping in the arms of another man, Tino would be much worse off. So he sat quiet, lunch forgotten on the floor, heart pounding in his chest, as he soothed the strange, quiet doctor on the floor of a supply closet.

The next time Tino saw Dr. O, which was only a day later, his face was expressionless, his tone calculating, his posture strong. He arrived in the Pediatric Ward to consult with a recent Intensive Care patient: a young boy about the age of 8, who was in need of a prosthetic leg after a severe crush injury.

* * *

__Present day ___-  
_

* * *

"A kid? _Dr. O_..." Immediate concern shot through Tino's body like a rocket, "you don't work with children..." and there was a very good reason why. Berwald was too soft-hearted, he always broke down whenever he had to work with young patients. In the 5 years Tino had known Berwald, he only knew of three kids he had designed prosthetic limbs for; each of those times ended in emotional disaster. Berwald would fall in to a slump. He would not eat, he would not sleep, he would sit in his office and stare at nothing, eyes glazed over. After the last child Dr. O saw in consult, he refused to talk to anyone, even Tino, for over a week.

Tino's heart did a flip when his eyes met with Dr. O's, and he struggled to maintain even eye contact, searching for a deeper explanation. Berwald said nothing.

"Dr. O - __Berwald__..." Colour rose in Berwald's cheeks and he finally broke their eye contact, eyes flicking down to his desk. Tino's heart stuttered, "just.. make sure you leave tonight, __okei__? Get a proper night's rest." He worried too much. He cared too much. He should not be worried about how much sleep his __boss __got, or how he was feeling when he was doing his __job__.

Berwald heaved a sigh and said, "happy wife, happy life."

They fell in to awkward silence, Tino not quite sure where to look, and Dr. O was staring unseeing at the arm on his desk. Finally, "will you come wit' me?"

Tino looked up, confused. Berwald was looking at him now, his expression one that Tino could not decipher. Berwald's gaze flicked between Tino's face and the arm on his desk, giving him a clear hint as to what he was asking. Tino thought a moment, processing this new expression and filing it away to recall later. He understood.

"Yes, of course."

Berwald stood suddenly, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders, stepping out from behind his desk. He gave Tino a small smile, one of those smiles that only Tino could see. His eyes were still sad, but he did not look like he was about to break down. Tino heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, Dr. O, there's your coffee. You have a consult at eleven, I will get you her referral and chart information-"

Tino's blood ran thick and almost seemed to come to a complete stop in his veins. His heart dropped in to his stomach and his stomach dropped in to his feet. Berwald - __Dr. O __\- crossed the small office in a few short strides and was standing toe-to-toe with Tino, peering down at him. This time, Tino really __couldn't __read his expression. It was soft, his brow relaxed and his mouth parted, his ocean eyes sparkled - __ocean eyes__? Tino gave himself a mental kick. Then, Berwald's hands were a heavy weight on his shoulders and the world seemed to slide away around them. His heart thudded in his feet with his flip-flopping stomach.

"Thank you, T'no." Berwald leaned in a bit, and Tino's heart made a giant leap from his feet to his throat. He could feel warm breath on his forehead, his ears burning as a blush conquered his whole face, his head buzzing. Despite having slept at his desk, he smelled so nice.

"N-no problem," he gave an awkward chuckle, his voice sounded high-pitched and squeaky in his ears, he could only imagine what it sounded like to Ber - __Dr. Oxenstierna__. The corners of Dr. O's mouth turned up, his eyes showed signs of silent laughter, and the distance between them grew as the doctor backed away, releasing Tino's shoulders.

Tino ducked out of the office as fast as he could and slid in to his chair, heart still racing. He slammed his head down on to the desk in front of him. "__Oi __dear __Jumala__, help me, I am in such big __paska__."

"What's that?" Tino's head shot up at the sound of a voice - he could have sworn the front office had been empty. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw it was only Dr. VonBock.

"Eduard, good morning."

"Why are you in the big shit, Tino?" Tino liked Eduard and considered him a friend outside of the workplace. Occasionally, they would go for drinks after work and complain about difficult patients, and Eduard would regale Tino with the latest hospital gossip from his rounds. Eduard had tidy, sandy blonde hair and thick-framed square glasses. His eyes were wide, green-blue, and friendly. Tino appreciated the honesty of his face - he was easy to read!

"Ah, nothing."

"Did you break the coffee machine again?" Eduard leaned on the reception counter and chewed on a thumbnail, looking concerned. "Raivis will not be please, you remember last time..."

"What? I... No!" Tino did break the coffee machine once, and it was not pretty. He buys all his coffee on the way to work, now. "It's nothing like that!"

"Is the microwave still working? Because, I swear, if-"

"Eduard! I just can't talk about it __here__..." He was not sure if his face could get any more red, but his cheeks felt like they were heating up. He was certain one could fry an egg on his face at this point. He cleared his throat.

"Oo_oh_," Tino, as much as he liked Eduard, did not appreciate the mischievous glint he suddenly developed in his eyes. "So it's about __Berwald__."

"__What__?!" Tino stood so fast his chair tipped over behind his knees. "Why, what! __Berwald__?!"

"Yea'?" Tino's knees turned to noodles and he sank against his desk, his breath caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

"What did you _do_ to your wife this morning? He's a mess." Tino could imagine Dr. O shrugging in response somewhere behind him. He chose not to look up and find out. Eduard chuckled and ruffled Tino's hair as he made his way towards the rehabilitation clinic. Tino did not care how friendly his relationship was with __Dr. VonBock__, he was going to __kill __him the first chance he got.

"You alright there, T'no?" He heard Dr. O moving behind him, likely righting his fallen chair. He gripped the edge of his desk and forced his shaking legs back in to a standing position.

"Oh, yes, I just... fell." __Am falling__, he thought. __Don't look up, don't look up, don't look up__... Tino looked up. Berwald was regarding him with a concerned expression. He said nothing else, eyebrows drawing together in a way that said, '__are you sure__?' "I'm fine!" Tino willed a smile to his face, hoping it looked bright and cheery and normal. Berwald nodded once, then turned and headed towards the kitchen.

"Tino!" Eduard's head popped from around the corner. He pointed two fingers at Tino then back at himself. "Drinks tonight."

"But,"

"No excuses."

"Alright." Satisfied, Eduard disappeared again and Tino sunk in to his chair. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** You can follow Denmark and Norway's side of the story over at "Paging Doctors Bondevik and Kohler"! Pure DenNor fluff, I tell ya (mixed in with medical jargon and surgery, of course)

* * *

The Pediatric Ward looked exactly the way Tino remembered it. The same tan and mint green waiting room chairs. The familiar art on the walls of a mother breastfeeding content babies while curious siblings looked on. The same long reception desk with the silk plants spaced out along the smooth, granite surface.

The only thing that was different was the unfamiliar receptionist that was regarding Tino and Berwald with a murderous expression.

He had shocking platinum blonde hair accompanied by naturally dark eyebrows furrowed in a withering glare. Long eyelashes curved over eerily violet eyes that Tino could hardly believe were real. His skin was pale and looked almost translucent. A large, round button with the picture of a puffin was pinned to the front of his dusty brown scrub shirt next to a cheery name tag which proudly declared 'EMIL' in block letters.

"We're here t'see Dr. Bondevik," Berwald said as he approached the counter. Tino moved to stand beside him, drumming his fingers on the smooth counter-top.

"You look a little _old_ to be seeing Dr. Bondevik."

"Ah, we're not patients." Berwald's weight shifted between his feet. Only Tino could see the shock in Berwald's eyes that he was met with any sort of resistance; he did not seem to know how exactly to respond to the receptionist. It was not often Berwald went anywhere and was told 'no' due to his frightening outward appearance. Not to mention the 'Doctor' prefix in his name. But today, he had changed into plain clothes before coming to the hospital, a dark long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and he had no name tag to prove he belonged there.

"No shit," Emil deadpanned. Tino leaned across the counter and affixed his best glare. "He is very busy with patients. Please call back and schedule an appointment." Tino could not bring himself to immediately dislike this Emil, but he certainly was no fan of his rude airs. When he worked here, he made sure to greet every person with respect and kindness, even if they seemed out of place (and two grown men wandering in to Pediatrics asking to see the chief of the department unannounced _did_ seem a little out of place, but Tino would not say this out loud). Berwald's stone face seemed to have no effect on the receptionist, and the man looked like he was about to give up when Tino cracked.

"Listen here," said Tino, "this here is _Dr. Oxenstierna_ and he has business with Dr. Bondevik." He tried to make his face say, '_and nobody refuses _my_ Dr. Oxenstierna when he has business_'. He wasn't sure if he was successful in sounding intimidating, Emil only blinked calmly at him, when a voice as smooth as butter cut in to their exchange.

"Tino. Good to see you again."

Dr. Bondevik was coming up behind them, materializing out of thin air as Tino recalled he did. His hands were stuffed deep in to his lab coat pockets, his lips upturned in a small, friendly smile. "Dr. O," he nodded in greeting and turned towards the glaring receptionist. "Emil, this is Dr. Oxenstierna and his _lovely_ assistant, Tino Vainamoinen, say hello."

"Hello."

"They are welcome here. Even though Dr. O betrayed his superiors, ran away from his duties, and took _my_ receptionist along with him." Dr. Bondevik gave Berwald 'a look'. Tino cringed, but heard the humor in his tone. "But, as they say, the past is in the past," he shrugged, still smiling.

Tino had worked alongside Dr. Bondevik for many years before leaving with Dr. O. The receptionist, Emil, continued to look annoyed, but said nothing else. Dr. Bondevik motioned for Tino and Berwald to follow him, leading the way out of reception and through a pair of double doors.

"It _is_ good to see you, Berwald. Your being here means we are one step closer to discharging-"

"_Dr. O_!" A high-pitched cry and a blur of white, blue, and blonde raced towards Berwald, who barely had enough time to steady himself and adjust the bag he was holding. "Catch me! _Whee_!" He caught the small, brightly smiling boy who launched himself in to Berwald's arms. He had the biggest, brightest blue eyes Tino had ever seen.

"Peter, what are you doing out of your room?" Dr. Bondevik arched a menacing brow at the boy clinging to Berwald, one arm looped one arm around Berwald's neck, the other... was missing just above the elbow, a tight, white bandage wrapped neatly over the stump. He was wearing a sailor uniform complete with a blue sailor hat atop his head, blue and white ribbons trailing out the back of it. He wore a crisp white linen shirt trimmed in sky blue with a big, blue bow on the front at his throat. He had navy shorts, and white knee-high socks, one pulled all the way up, the other bunched around his ankle. His shoes seemed to be missing.

"I snuck out when Miss Laura wasn't looking!" Peter said with enthusiasm, his grin widening.

"_Peter Kirkland_! Get back here, you brat! You're going to hurt yourself and that nice man – Oh! Dr. O!" Laura raced around a corner, sprinting towards them, her face flushed and hair as flyaway as ever. "_Tino_!" she shrieked as she skidded to a halt in front of them. She threw her arms around Tino in a tight embrace. "Dear, sweet, lovely, adorable Tino!" She was very nearly crushing him. "I miss your sweet, innocent face and easy-to-read handwriting! Emil won't translate Dr. Bondevik's notes for us poor, sad nurses like _you_ would!"

"Hello, Laura," Tino struggled to breathe against Laura's breast as she smothered him.

"Dr. O, would you consider trading Tino for Emil? Pretty please?" She finally released Tino and he gasped for breath, red from his neck to the top of his ears.

"_No_." The corners of Berwald's mouth twitched in a sort of smile, his eyes danced with humor behind his glasses, the tone of his voice firm and final.

"Be nice, Laura," Dr. Bondevik sighed, "he's my younger brother. He does a fine job."

"He ain't _my_ family!" Laura laughed.

"Is that a present for me?" Peter asked, bringing the attention back to the small boy in Berwald's arms. He was giddy, beaming, wiggling, excitedly looking down at the bag Berwald was holding.

"Ah, something for you, yeah." Berwald leaned and gently put Peter on the ground, he started bouncing on his toes the moment his feet hit the floor.

"What is it?!"

"I'll show ya," Berwald took Peter's hand and the pair led the rest of the group back down the hall to what Tino could only assume was Peter's room.

Late afternoon sun streamed into the small hospital room from a large window at the far end. Dried petals and curled, crunchy leaves decorated the sill around the base of a dusty vase holding a bouquet of old, brown daisies.

The walls were bare, save for medical equipment. A small TV hung from the ceiling, cartoons dancing across the screen, the volume mute. There was a door in the corner of the room and Tino could make out a small bathroom beyond it. A small cupboard stood opposite the hospital bed in the centre of the room, the doors standing wide open. Inside, several bare hangers hung next to a single outfit, what appeared to be a wrinkled and ruined child's play sailor uniform similar to the one Peter was already wearing.

Where were the papers of colourful children's drawings taped to the walls? Where was the quilt from home, neatly folded on the foot of the bed? Where was the superhero bed sheets and matching pajamas? Where were the smiling pictures of family, parents, siblings, or friends sitting on the bedside table so it would be the last thing Peter saw when going to sleep and the first thing he saw when he woke in the morning? There was no giant, hand-made card from classmates and friends wishing him 'Get Well Soon!' There were no cheery balloons, books to read, or games to play. Other than a small, tattered stuffed seal sitting on the bed pillow, the room smelled as sterile as it looked, like a young boy had not been living in it.

Tino's heart broke, and he didn't fully understand _why_.

Tino hung back by the door as Berwald sat on the edge of the small hospital bed and brought the bag into his lap, producing a simple wooden box from inside it. Peter stood in front of him, eyes wide and shining in excitement. Dr. Bondevik stood at the foot of the bed, flipping through the boy's chart while Laura joined Tino by the door.

"He's a good kid," she said softly, "been with us almost 3 weeks, now."

Dr. O removed a small prosthetic arm from a wooden box. Peter's eyes lit up when he saw it. Berwald had painted it light blue and white – like the small sailor outfit Peter was wearing. He was explaining it to Peter, and how he was going to have more properly made, that he needed to make sure everything was going to fit and work properly for Peter. Tino looked to Laura beside him, her eyes soft as she watched the boy and doctor.

"What happened to him?"

"He had an infection," she said simply, falling silent, deep in thought. She glanced back at Tino, who was watching her, waiting to see if she would elaborate. She shrugged, "patient confidentiality, Tino, you know the rules." Tino sighed. So much for satisfying his burning curiosity.

"His room is so empty for having been here a few weeks..."

Laura nodded, "Yeah, it is. Dr. O has been the only one outside of staff to visit him." she gestured to the wilted flowers on the window sill, "he got those when he first arrived. He won't let us throw them away now, though."

"Where is his family?"

Laura shot him a look that clearly said, '_stop asking questions I can't answer_.' He huffed and returned his gaze to Berwald and Peter.

Berwald's face was unusually relaxed, an easy smile on his mouth. He ruffled Peter's hair as the boy examined his new arm.

"Like a superhero!" he exclaimed, "now I can save the day with _two_ arms again!" Tino felt a pang in his chest and noticed the smile waver on Berwald's face before he collected it again. Tino knew the hurt Berwald must be feeling, but also the sense of joy for having made a positive difference in the boy's life.

He couldn't help but wonder about the boy's parents. Where were they during such a crucial moment in his life? Losing a limb is a terribly emotional experience, the recovery long and difficult, and the grief and acceptance a rough road to travel. Kids are resilient, but Tino wondered if Peter was simply burying his emotions about the whole ordeal under his bright and smiling face.

"Dr. O has paid for his counseling up until this point and for the future, too." Laura said so quietly, Tino glanced at her to make sure she was actually speaking. She was staring at him. "Why did you leave us and go with him?" The question came from out of the blue and startled Tino. His heart thudded in his throat and he thought for a moment.

"I... don't really know," he scratched the back of his head, smiling, "I guess my desire for adventure got the better of me. I thought I had made a terrible mistake at first, but... I think things turned out for the best." Laura gave a slow nod, eyeing Berwald.

"I don't know Dr. O that well, but I trust your judgment. He seems like a kind man."

"He is. The kindest." He did not try to cover up the deep affection in his tone.

.

They walked in silence through the hospital as they left. Tino peeked up at Berwald just as Berwald glanced down at him. Berwald's cheeks flushed.

"Thanks f'coming with me," he said at last.

"You seemed to do okay in there. I was hardly much help." Berwald stopped walking and they faced each other, Berwald's hands dropping on to Tino's shoulders and squeezing gently.

"No," he said, "I could only do it because I knew you were there. All I had to do was look up and you'd be smilin' at me." Tino's heart stuttered and he looked down at his feet. The weight on his shoulders disappeared as Berwald continued walking down the hall.

.

Tino had tried to forget about agreeing to go for drinks with Eduard when him and Berwald arrived back at the office. He wished he had accepted Berwald's offer to drive him home. Of _course_ he had to feel like an imposition, insisting he wanted to bus home from the office, that he enjoyed the walk.

"I have a couple of things I want to finish up there anyway," he had said, "you go home, Dr. O, I'll see you Monday morning," and Berwald drove off as Tino walked through the doors, bells jingling merrily. Eduard accosted him before he could even get to his desk.

"Tino! Good timing! Let's go!" And like that, Tino was dragged from the office, shoved into Eduard's car, and whisked downtown to the local pub.

He was rather uncomfortable as he sat at a small table in the corner of the bar him and Eduard chose to frequent when they went out. The lighting was dim, the table sticky, and the music much too loud. He clutched at his beer like it was his only lifeline – which, in fairness, truly felt to be considering the conversation he was about to have.

Eduard plopped down in the chair opposite Tino, grinning over his own beer. He looked far too cheery.

"Tino," he put his elbow on the table and leaned in, a sweet smile stretching over his face, "what's up?"

Tino glared at him and huffed, "you told me I __had __to come out to drink with you."

"I did," he leaned back and sipped his beer, regarding Tino over the rim of his glass. He took his time as he sipped, and slowly replace the beer on the table. "So, __Ber___wald_." Apparently he was going to drive right to the heart of the matter, no idle chit-chat to warm him up.

"Dr. O is my boss." Tino buried his face in his own glass, taking much too large a gulp, most of what he drank ending up down his front than actually in his mouth. Eduard raised an eyebrow at him, smirking.

"I only tease because I'm curious, Tino." Tino peeked up at his friend, he was leaning across the table again. "He's a scary guy, isn't he?"

"Dr. O?" Tino waved at the air, "only because you don't know him well enough. He's kind, compassionate, gentle, smart, surprisingly funny, and," he chuckled, "forgetful! You should see the face he makes when he thinks he's lost something that's right in front of him. Like his glasses! A couple weeks ago, he was so absorbed in his work, he forgot he had pushed his glasses on to the top of his head. I finally came in and he was freaking out (as much as he can, at least)! You should have seen his face when I told him they were on his head!" He felt his cheeks warm at his verbal deluge and he hid his face in his beer again, this time careful not to choke. It was hard to remember that, even though Eduard and Raivis worked with Berwald several days out of the week, they didn't know him the way Tino did. Tino spent every day with the man, and had for the last several years. They worked for him because he was a good and fair boss, not out of any special likeness for him. Come to think of it, neither spent more time than necessary with him, even when working directly together. "He's a good man," Tino said in to his cup.

"I am worried about you," Eduard sighed, eyes rolling to the ceiling as he considered what to say next. "You are very close to, as you insist, __Dr. O__. Are you sure it is okay, though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hmm, I mean..." Eduard gave Tino a sideways look, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "you seem to be, ah, quite __taken __with him. I know we all joke about you being his 'wife'... but perhaps you are taking it too seriously?"

Tino took a minute to digest what Eduard was suggesting. He usually got annoyed when anyone in the office suggested he was Berwald's 'wife' - he was a __man__, after all. But other than that, he wasn't sure why Eduard thought he took the joke to heart.

Nevermind the fact that Tino was irrevocably in love with the man. Tino felt his cheeks flush deeper. This was a new revelation to Tino himself, so where Eduard was getting his information from was beyond him. He shook his head, "I am not sure I know what you mean. I am his assistant." He decided to play it safe.

"Oh, Tino," Eduard heaved a heavy, loud, drawn out sigh. "You hang on his every word - few as they are - you bound to his door the moment he so much as beckons. You have keys to his __apartment__ and _car_ – can you even drive_?_ You bring him coffee every morning, even though he goes to make his own right after."

"He_ doesn't drink _the coffee I bring him?!" This made Tino angrier than he expected. It was their special thing!

"Tino, you call him at home on his days off to make sure he's resting."

"I don't do that."

"You did it last week. I was standing right behind you. You giggled like a schoolgirl when you finally hung up."

Did he do that? Oh, gosh. He thought he only decided he was in love the other morning, and he wasn't even sure where in the sky the revelation had fallen from. He put his beer on the table and clutched at his head, avoiding looking at Eduard. He needed to process, he needed to think for a minute.

Berwald had the most stunning, expressive, ocean blue eyes. He could stare at them all day long - he always could. From the moment he first saw them, tear-filled as they were. Tino had always thought Berwald was a beautiful person after they had met. Even under a stony posture and hardened gaze, he was capable of so much more raw emotion than anyone else ever gave him credit for. He was misunderstood, and Tino could relate to that.

Berwald was kind, he loved his patients, even the ones that made him angry. He would keep cool and collected and had a soothing way of talking that could calm even the most crazed client. His patients would often get frustrated when their prosthesis wouldn't fit or work properly, and Berwald would coach them through every step until they found something that worked. Tino loved that Berwald would remember a patient he had seen, even months ago, and ask for their contact information so he could check in on them (or, rather, so Tino could call or Berwald would dictate a quick note to mail). He loved that he remembered to follow-up, even with patients that ended up seeing someone else.

Tino loved how he would squint down at his notepad while taking notes in a consultation, trying to decipher what the hell he just wrote (he has terrible penmanship, and it's so endearing). Tino loved how he would push his glasses up his forehead then press the palms of his hands to his eyes when he was tired, or bump his glasses up his nose with his knuckles when he was thinking.

Berwald was strong, physically and emotionally (despite having met during an emotional crisis). He had wide shoulders and large hands. It was hard not to notice his well toned chest when he wore his white button-down dress shirt to the office on occasion. If Tino was lucky, Berwald would stretch his arms over his head as he yawned, showing just a hint of hardened abs decorating his abdomen. He also had delicious forearms. He looked like he would be able to pick Tino right up off the ground and carry him away...

The colour of Berwald's hair reminded Tino of a sunny winter morning, maybe a few weeks away from spring. It was pale, golden, simple, beautiful. He imagined it to be quite soft to touch. He longed to run his fingers through it -

"Oh God, I'm in love with him." Tino panicked, "how long have I been in love with him?!"

"Since I started working there at least."

"Oh God._ Oh God_! Eduard! What do I do?!" This was so much more serious than he had originally thought. And, did he really just think '_delicious_ forearms'?!

"You could always take him on a hot date." Eduard deadpanned. "Invite him in for coffee at the end of the evening, you know, because he likes coffee so much." He heard the jest and innuendo in Eduard's voice, but he didn't have a chance to come up with a witty retort because Dr. O himself strolled in. He did not notice Tino and Eduard sitting in the back corner, hidden by dim lighting, the haze of smoke, and crowds of people, but Tino saw him as soon as he slid on to a stool at the bar. He ordered a shot of something, tossed it back, and waved for another.

Tino gripped his beer, knuckles white, before bringing the cup to his lips and drinking the whole thing, eyes never leaving Berwald's back. The bitter liquid slid down his throat and shocked his, he just realized, empty stomach. He glanced at Eduard who was watching him with a puzzled expression, took the beer out of his hands and drank that too. He slammed the cup on the table next to his own empty glass, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and rose to his feet.

"Tino...?" He ignored his friend and marched up to the bar.

He slid between the next empty stool and Berwald, who still hadn't noticed him, and leaned on the bar. The bartender sauntered over to him, and raised an eyebrow. Tino motioned to the shot Berwald had taken, "I'll have whatever that was." Berwald jerked at the sound of Tino's voice, startling when he noticed him standing right next to him. He said nothing, but his eyes clearly screamed, _'what are you doing here_?!'

Tino shrugged, "Eduard wanted to go out for drinks," he motioned towards the back of the bar where Eduard was watching. Berwald did not bother looking. The bartender returned, sliding the shot glass in to Tino's hands, and hanging back, wiping his hands on a rag. Tino took the glass, held it up in cheers to Berwald, and tipped it down his throat.

He immediately regretted ordering it. It did not have a pleasant flavor or texture going down, the back of his throat burned. He coughed, spluttering, and asked, "what the hell was that?" The colour rose in Berwald's cheeks and he muttered something under his breath that Tino was not able to hear.

"It's called sperm, lad," the bartender laughed, still standing there and wiping his hands on his rag. He chuckled to himself and wandered down the bar where a couple were waiting for service. Berwald coughed, the colour in his cheeks a violent shade of red.

"S'vodka, tequila, and cream."

"W-why would they _call_ it s-sp-_that_? Why would _you_ drink that?!"

"Ah," Berwald coughed again, turning away from Tino and fiddling with his own empty shot glass. "I don't rightly know."

Tino sank to the stool beside Berwald, suddenly feeling like the room was too warm. He chewed on his lip for a moment. The bartender was walking by and he reached out, "I'll have another, ah, what I had." The bartender raised an eyebrow and nodded. When the shot arrived, Tino inspected it, before tipping it back, silently praising himself for not choking. He noticed Berwald watching out of the corner of his eye, his face still pink.

Berwald. He hadn't changed from their trip to the hospital earlier that day. He was wearing a dark, long-sleeved shirt that hugged him in all the right places, his biceps bulged in the sleeves, his chest neatly outlined - Tino very much desired to lift up his shirt and admire the chest he could see the shape of and quite possibly lick it. The dark jeans did amazing things to the man's ass, as well. The blush on Berwald's cheeks spread down to his neck when he noticed Tino staring at him.

"What?" He asked, half turning, he bumped his glasses up his nose with one of his fingers. Tino's stomach flipped.

"You're just so _sexy_." The moment the words left his mouth he felt like his face went up in flames. Berwald's mouth dropped open – an expression Tino had yet to discover he was capable of. Did he just say that out loud? Quick! What was another word that _sounded_ like sexy, but was definitely _not_ sexy? "Ah! I mean, ah, ss...eeeh...nice?"

"H-how much have you had to drink, T'no?"

"Uh," he giggled, "I had two pints of beer before I came up here and," he giggled again, why was he giggling? Why couldn't he _stop_ giggling? "I had two shots of sperm. Right down my throat." Why was he still talking? He was mortified. He should have ordered food before getting a beer. He needed to eat a slice of bread. And, while his thoughts were still clear, he wondered how much longer he had to wait until the alcohol took over his brain completely. If he was going to act like an idiot, he'd rather not remember doing so.

Berwald was looking at him with those eyes over the rims of his glasses. He couldn't read his expressions, so he settled on letting his eyes roam over the rest of him again. He was clutching his empty shot glass in one of his hands, shaking, and Tino vaguely wondered if the thing was going to break. His eyes continued in their adventures, taking in how Berwald was sitting, perched just on the edge of the stool. One long leg was planted firmly on the ground, the other tucked under, resting on one of the stool rungs close to the floor. He noticed his other hand was in his lap, clenched in a tight fist.

"You're nervous," Tino announced, dragging his eyes back up to Berwald's face. His mouth was hanging open again. He reached out one of his own hands and slid it under Berwald's chin, closing his mouth. "There," he smiled. He did not remove his hand from Berwald's face, despite the fact that he was mentally screaming at himself to do so. Instead, he stared at Berwald's lips. They were nice lips, even though they were settled in a frown. They looked soft.

And before he knew what he was doing, he was pressing his own mouth against those frowning, soft-looking lips. Berwald went rigid under Tino, but he didn't care. Those lips felt as soft as they looked, and they were warm-

"Okaaay, Tino! It's time to go home!" Eduard hauled Tino away from Berwald, who looked like he was on the verge of a panic, his mouth sliding open again as soon as Tino was pulled away. He stared straight ahead, face more red than a ripe tomato. "Sorry about that, Dr. O! I'm going to take him home..." Tino didn't listen to the rest of the conversation. He kept staring at Berwald's mouth, sad that it was no longer against his.

He hardly noticed the trip home.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

**Feel free to drop a review! They encourage me to keep writing.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **This chapter pretty much refused to be written. This whole week has been a writing nightmare, actually. Please be kind. The gracious review from** IceCreamHeartedAru** is what pushed me over in to finishing it. Thank you! And to everyone else who has reviewed so far – your kind words delight me! I write for you.

* * *

Berwald could not sleep.

His lips burned where Tino had pressed his own against him. A shiver snaked down his spine at the memory as he lay in bed, staring at his ceiling.

He had dreamed of kissing Tino. He had rolled the idea over in his head again and again, imaging how it would happen, how it would feel. This, though, this he did not expect. He felt heavy, broken. He felt as if he was moments away from impact after tripping and falling, only suddenly realizing that the ground was a lot further away and it was going to hurt a lot more than anticipated. He wanted to kiss Tino, yes, but not like that. Not when the only way it seemed Tino would do it was because he was drunk. He had wanted to experience Tino and everything he was, everything he had imagined him to be, and none of that included the taste of alcohol on his breath. None of his daydreams ever included Eduard, of all people, dragging Tino away. None of his imaginings included the hollow feeling in his chest or the painful knot in his stomach.

Berwald could not sleep.

How was he supposed to act now? Like nothing had happened? Would Tino even remember? Should he and Tino talk about it? He wasn't sure how that conversation would go. Even though his 'wife' was the only person he felt the most comfortable conversing with, he was not sure he'd be able to find enough words. How would Tino be able to simply read his face when his thoughts were a mess in his own head? Normally, he could think clearly. He loved that he could convey an entire side of a conversation to Tino with a single glance, that his eyes could form the words his mouth stumbled on. He was the only one who understood Berwald. Would he still?

Berwald could not sleep.

Tino was the most precious person to Berwald, doubly so since Tino was the only person who didn't seem openly frightened of him. Since the day they met, Tino approached him with ease, talked him him readily, and would give Berwald a smile that seemed to be made only for him. His heart constricted in his chest as he thought about that smile. Tino was friendly with everyone, but a certain look would come over his face when he looked at Berwald. He didn't dare dream about what such an expression could mean, and instead enjoyed the way it would make him feel warm inside. Tino would absently brush the hair out of those violet eyes, they would crinkle at the corners, his cheeks would turn the lightest shade of pink, and that mouth would stretch in to a smile that made Berwald feel like the two of them were the only ones in the room.

Berwald cherished that smile and the lips that formed it. He wanted to protect it, guard it from ever leaving Tino's face. The image of Eduard dragging Tino away earlier that night caused his heart to crumble, aching, because the expression on Tino's face was not smiling. He looked glazed-over, his lips frowning, his eyebrows drawn as if in deep concentration. Perhaps it was simply the alcohol taking over, but perhaps he was the realization of what he had done – the horror?

Berwald could not sleep.

The seconds seemed to drag in to minutes, minutes barely turning in to hours. He was not aware that he had fallen asleep, but he must have, because when he opened his eyes next his room was painted in the dull gray of sunrise. He continued to lay in bed and stare at his ceiling, thankful that his alarm would not be going off today. He did not feel the desire to go to his office and pretend to work, aware of his perfect receptionist sitting at his own desk not far away. He did not feel like talking to patients and helping them cope with their emotional and physical issues when his head was drowning him in his own problems.

Was this a problem? Maybe it didn't need to be. Maybe Tino would not remember what he had done and they could pretend nothing ever transpired. Although, Berwald would remember. And Eduard was likely to fill Tino in once he had recovered... Would Tino still come to work? The blood in his veins froze like a creek in winter at the sudden thought of Tino quitting. His clinic only did so well because of his Tino. Tino was the cheerful glue that held everything together. He couldn't stand to lose it now. Not because of a drunken mistake.

Berwald rolled to his side and hugged one of his pillows.

Maybe he would just spend the day in bed.

He eventually fell into a dreamless sleep and was only awoken by the sound of his phone ringing. Without thinking, he reached an arm back towards his bedside table and groped for it, bringing it to his ear.

"'Lo," he mumbled, the haze from only a handful of hours sleep fogging his mind.

"Berwald! Buddy! Dude, are you _still_ sleeping?" Berwald struggled to place the sound of the familiar voice.

"...Mathias?" He dragged his heavy body in to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his free hand. "Aren't you... n'Africa?" He had to hold the phone away from his ear as Mathias loudly laughed, the sound cutting in to his sleepy daze like a knife.

"No! I got in the other night!"

Berwald smiled, "welcome home." It had been a long time since he'd seen his once-boss. After he quit working in the ER at the hospital, the two had grown in a sort of odd friendship, their relationship no longer strained by work. Mathias was everything Berwald was not, but secretly wished he could be: confident, charming, charismatic. He was strikingly handsome, his face easily expressive, and anyone nearby was instinctively drawn to him. Their relationship did not have much time to grow deeper than casual friends, though, as Mathias accepted a position overseas shortly after Berwald quit. He had felt recently compelled to write Mathias a letter and keep the man up to date on his life, Mathias was a large contributing factor in his decision to open his own clinic (even if it was not all the way positive), he had only mailed it about a couple months ago. Last he had heard, Mathias was still working in some country in Africa, teaching would-be surgical students as he had for the last four years at least. "Home for good or just visitin'?"

"I'm home for good! I've had enough sunshine to last me a lifetime," he laughed again. "Listen though, bud, I'm calling for a reason," of course he was, "I saw the arm you made for that kid, Kirkland or whatever his name is, that's some seriously impressive work." Berwald grunted in reply, "thanks to you, he's getting discharged soon."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Despite his words, he felt his heart sink.

"Yeeah," he could hear the smile faltering in Mathias' voice, "it _is_, but Lukas is worried. He'd never say it out loud, though." Berwald raised an eyebrow and made a noise in the back of his throat he hoped would convey a, '_oh? Why is that and what does it have to do with me_?' Thankfully, Mathias seemed to understand, "you run rehabilitation out of your clinic, yeah? Do you guys work with kids? Lukas might feel better referring him to someone familiar – where he will be properly looked after, you know?" Berwald did know. He had read Peter's chart before agreeing to construct the prosthetic arm. It had surprised him Lukas had called him in the first place. It seemed out of character for the brooding pediatrician to reach out and break the rules for a patient. Berwald had grown quite fond of the boy and would also feel a lot better if he were able to keep an eye on him.

"I'd have to talk to Eduard, but I don't see a problem." Eduard. Eduard who handled all of the rehabilitation clients. Eduard who knew what happened last night. He felt his heart speed up and a deep blush set fire in his cheeks.

"Fantastic! I'll let Lukikins know." _Lukikins_? "I mean, Dr. Bondevik..."

"Right."

Berwald disconnected the call and flopped back down in to his bed.

_Last night_... He touched his lips in thought.

He could still remember the feeling of Tino being so close. His Tino. Tino whose lips brushed against his own, warm, soft, and tasting like he had just licked a bar. He frowned. That was not his Tino, he told himself. That was two beers and two shots of – vodka, tequila, and cream. His Tino would never call him _sexy_ (his blush deepened). His Tino would not look him up and down with hungry eyes. His Tino would not kiss him.

Groaning, he rolled on to his stomach and buried his face in his pillow.

Thank God it was Saturday.

.

Berwald was more than a little ashamed to admit that much of the weekend was spent in bed, staring at his ceiling, and avoiding doing any sort of deep thinking at all. When he wasn't feeling sorry for himself, and after leaving a brief message for Eduard on his office phone, he began planning for Peter's rehabilitation at his clinic: what tools he was going to utilize to strengthen the arm muscles, how to approach teaching Peter how to use his prosthesis, and simply getting used to his new limb. He was glad Peter was seeing an excellent therapist (Dr. Arthur Kirkland – same surname, unrelated) for his emotional trauma, but he started digging in to some research on how to help on that end, too. He buried his nose in articles on his small laptop, simultaneously wishing the weekend would stretch on forever and to hurry up and end.

When Monday did roll around, he made sure to arrive early and hide himself in his office, preferring to busy himself in whatever odd projects he could find – there had to be _something_ to keep his mind engaged buried in the paperwork on his desk. When he did not discover anything remotely interesting, his mind started to wander, wondering what Tino was going to be like when he finally arrived... Would they talk? How would they move past Friday? Could he ever kiss Tino again? – not while drunk, preferably.

He glanced at his door. It was ten past and Tino normally had already delivered his morning coffee. He was late. Was he even in the office? It sounded almost too quiet. His mind was like a runaway train without brakes, a wreck in the making. He stared at his shut office door for what seemed like an age, but in reality was less than a minute, before rising to his feet and slowly walking over to it. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand for the door handle and flung it open.

Tino jumped, spilling coffee down his front.

"I-I-I...!" he stammered, not looking in one direction for longer than a second, and never up at Berwald. He quickly offered the cup of coffee, staring at the floor, and sloshing more of the liquid on to his sweater sleeve. "I wasn't sure... but, I thought that... here." Berwald wished he'd look up at him, so Tino could see the question in his eyes and not have to rely on his voice.

When Tino started to back away, he realized he had to try: "Nngg." His voice failed.

Tino finally looked at him, his eyes filled with confusion at the noise Berwald had just produced. Berwald wasn't sure what his face was saying – he tried to arrange it in a way that was thanking him for the coffee , even though it was now only half a cup. He hoped it also said something like, '_please, don't be scared_', '_please, tell me _I_ don't have to be scared_,' and, '_I want to kiss you again so badly, but this probably has to remain a secret_'.

"I... don't... I'm sorry?" Tino's eyebrows drew together, eyes searching Berwald's. His bottom lip was red and swollen like he'd been chewing on it for quite some time before Berwald startled him, his cheeks a deep rose colour. His hair was mussed, his pants were wrinkled, and he was wearing a fluffy white sweater, which was sadly stained brown by the coffee splatter down his front and on his forearms. He looked perfect.

Berwald floundered and just stared hard at him, his limbs refusing to move, his heart hammering in his chest. This was going so much worse than what he had imagined all weekend.

"Dr. O, are you...?"

"Dr. O! There you are!" Eduard was coming down the hall from his rehabilitation clinic – Berwald had not realized he was even scheduled to work today. He approached the two, a polite smile on his face and a knowing look in his eyes behind his glasses, "am I interrupting something?" He looked between them, Tino shook his head, chewing on his lip and fixing his eyes on his shoes. Berwald noticed that his socks were mismatched. "Ah, well, Dr. O, I got the message you sent me over the weekend about the young Mr. Kirkland. I'd be happy to assist you. I thought we could go see him this morning, actually. Get a head-start on his rehab. It's always a good idea to start as soon as you can!" Berwald nodded dumbly in response, watching as Tino slowly inched his way down the hall and towards his desk, the colour in his cheeks reddening. "Shall we?" Oh, Eduard meant _now_. Berwald nodded again and allowed himself to be dragged by the elbow out of the office.

.

Peter wasn't sure how he felt about being discharged today. He felt safe in the hospital and he liked all the doctors and nurses, they were kind to him. He did not have to be afraid if his arm – or where his arm used to be – would hurt and he would wake up in the middle of the night, filled to the brim with terror like a cup with too much apple juice. Someone was always ready to help and comfort him. Nurse Laura gave really good hugs and Dr. Bondevik, despite his frowny face, was very nice and told really cool stories if he was working overnight.

He sat on the edge of his hospital bed and stared at the wall. This was supposed to be _his_ room. Why did they have to kick him out of it? He was happy here, comfortable, taken care of. Where was he going next? He knew he wasn't going back home, the lady with the bright red lip stick had come to tell him that the Government was placing him in something called a foster home. Would they give him hugs in the middle of the night and tell him stories when he was frightened? Would they yell at him if he accidentally wet the bed? Would they be nice if he wasn't feeling well? Would they let him laugh when he forgot he only hand one real hand, or would they look down their noses with sad faces, and "_tsk_" at him. He knew he only had one arm now. He didn't need the constant reminders. He did have a super cool new arm, though, and it made him feel like he could do anything he could before! In fact, it made him feel like he was way more powerful. He didn't know how to use it all the way yet, but his new arm was like magic. He didn't have to worry about pinching his fingers, or washing under those fingernails, or touching something too hot with that hand. It was strong, too! And Dr. O had given him his new arm, which made it even more special.

Dr. O had a scary face, but he was the nicest man Peter had ever met. He spoke very quietly and never talked to him like he didn't understand. He treated Peter like and adult, and Peter liked that, because then he could pretend he _was_ an adult, and lots of things aren't scary to adults. Dr. O would ruffle his hair and smile at him like he was proud. He liked feeling like he made someone proud. Dr. O was a safe man and reminded Peter of what a father should to be like; if he could pick anyone in the world to be his father, Dr. O would be it, hands (hand) down.

Peter heard voices outside of his door and looked up sadly. He did not have the energy to be happy today, he wanted to be sad – _he was leaving today_. He hoped he wasn't leaving _now_. Maybe it was Mathias outside the door? Dr. Bondevik had said that Mathias used to work in the hospital and just came back from a very long trip. Mathias was nice – he was very tan and had blonde hair that stood up funny and he always wanted to play games with him. He would sit Peter in his lap and they would race down the hospital halls in a wheelchair as fast as they could! Nurse Laura would scream and chase them and it made it even more fun! She was funny when she was all red in the face and struggling to keep up; Mathias always made sure she never caught them. Only Dr. Bondevik could catch them: he'd suddenly appear, standing in the middle of the hall with his arms crossed over his chest and a very angry look on his face, but his eyes were smiling, so Peter knew it was okay.

Dr. Bondevik came in to the room, followed by a short, smiling man with blonde hair and glasses, and behind him was-

"Dr. O!" Peter cried. He jumped off his bed and ran up to him, throwing his good arm around the doctor's waist in a quick hug. "You came back!" Dr. O knelt down to Peter's level – Peter liked that. Most adults just looked down at him, but Dr. O always made sure they were looking at each other in the eye. Which was nice, because Dr. O was so _tall_.

"'Lo, Pet'r."

"Peter," Dr. Bondevik had a small smile on his face; he smiled a lot more these days, especially when Mathias was around (even though Mathias did things to annoy him). "This is Dr. Eduard VonBock, he works with Dr. O in his clinic." Dr. VonBock put a hand on Dr. O's shoulder and leaned over to also be eye level with Peter. His hair was straight, and looked a lot like the hay Peter had fed some farm animals a few summers ago while on vacation. He had a kind face and a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks and nose. Peter liked it when adults had freckles because he had them, too.

"Hello, Dr. Vonbock," Peter said politely, curling his arm around Dr. O's neck and clinging to him tightly. If Dr. O trusted him, then he was probably an okay guy.

"Pet'r, Dr. VonBock is going to be in charge of your rehabilitation at m'clinic."

"Can't you do it, Dr. O?" Peter looked to the older man, searching his eyes. There were so many adults and doctors in his life now, he didn't want to have another one. Dr. O smiled at him and pushed his glasses up his nose, his other arm loosely returning Peter's hug.

"No, Pet'r, I'm not that kind of doctor." Peter didn't understand, but he nodded anyway, "but I'll be there every time you come visit."

"Can you come with me when I go to my rehabilathingies?"

"I s'pose I could, if it's alright with Dr. VonBock."

The three men talked between themselves, and Peter much preferred to ignore them. Adults always talked _about_ Peter and what they were going _to do _with Peter, and rarely asked Peter what _he_ wanted. He would have told any grown up what he wanted, but they never asked. He would have told an adult a long time ago that it wasn't nice at home – he wanted to tell his teacher at school, but she never asked him. He had wanted to tell someone that his arm had been hurt, that something was wrong, but he couldn't. He had always been told that children should be seen, not heard, and to never answer a question that was not asked. So he said nothing. Just like how he would not say that he did not want to leave the hospital, that it did not make him feel good inside. He would much prefer to go home with someone like Dr. O, and not some strange family that he did not know.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Dr. Bondevik's frowny brother was standing there with a nervous-looking couple behind him. Peter hugged Dr. O tighter – he knew who these people must be. He did not want to go with them.

"They're here for Peter," was all Emil said and confirmed Peter's suspicions. His stomach sank to his feet.

"This is excellent timing," Dr. Bondevik was saying now, "this is Peter's prosthetist, Dr. Oxenstierna, and rehabilitation specialist, Dr. VonBock. I'm his pediatrician, Dr. Bondevik."

"Oh gosh, so many doctors!" the woman was saying. Peter rolled his eyes, but held in the groan that almost escaped his lips. She had a friendly face, but so did the adults at Peter's home. And they weren't very nice. This woman had brown hair that reminded Peter of of those little bits of wood adults put into gardens to make them look pretty. She had icy blue eyes and big glasses that seemed to balance on her cheeks. The man next to her, her husband Peter assumed, had short black hair that was cut close to his head, a short beard on his face and dark eyes. Peter did not trust him, but he didn't look outwardly threatening, either.

"It takes a whole special team to take care of a special boy," Dr. O said, still kneeling on the floor with Peter wrapped around his neck. One of his arms hugged Peter back, tighter than before. Peter felt better when he did that. The woman smiled at them, then came in to the room and bent over to look at Peter.

"Hello Peter, I'm Mrs. Samwort, we're going to take you home tonight, okay?" Peter buried his face in Dr. O's neck and hid from her. He did not want to go with Mrs. and Mr. Samwort, that was a stupid name for a person. But, no one asked what he thought.

"Mrs. Samwort," Dr. VonBock was talking now, "Here is my card. Please, call Dr. O's wife and set up an appointment as soon as Peter is more settled. It is important to start his rehabilitation as soon as possible." Peter blinked. Dr. O had a wife? Dr. O's cheeks were turning pink and he was giving Dr. VonBock a very scary look as Mrs. Samwart stood and accepted the card offered to her. She put the card in to her purse, Peter took note. The adults were talking again. Dr. O started to untangle himself from Peter's grasp to stand.

"Dr. O," Peter whispered, Dr. O froze, and looked down at him, his expression softening, "do you promise not to forget about me?"

"I pr'mise, Pet'r. I could never forget you," he ruffled Peter's hair, "I will see you soon." He stood and joined the conversation with the adults before he and Dr. VonBock said their goodbyes and Dr. Bondevik was leading Peter and the couple to reception to go over his discharge paperwork.

Peter wanted to cry, but he decided to hold it inside.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

**AN2:** NEXT chapter is when things start to get interesting! Feel free to check out my profile for a detailed chapter-release schedule.

Don't forget, you can follow Denmark and Norway's story in "Paging Doctors Bondevik and Kohler"!

**Please drop a review, I'll love you forever if you do!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **This chapter is a whirlwind and took me all week to write. Phewf! It's hella long, but I didn't want to split it more than one chapter... sooo... yeah. Here's a double chapter, guys!

Just an FYI: Peter's foster family are my own characters and not from Hetalia.

**ScandinavianMutt** on ffnet and **Boffinness** (even though we chatted about more than one story) on Tumblr, this chapter was completed because of your kind reviews/comments!

* * *

Peter Kirkland hated Mr. and Mrs. Samwort.

They were not mean, nor did they treat him unkindly, he just did not want to be with them. As soon as he had arrived at their modest house he turned to Mrs. Samwort ("Please Peter, you can call me Auntie Em.") and asked when she was going to call Dr. O's wife and set up an appointment to begin his rehabilitation.

"Oh, let's make sure you get settled," she had said that day, and the next, and the next day. A whole week went by, and Peter felt as settled as he was ever going to get, and still she refused to call. "Why don't you go back to school, once you're comfortable with a routine, then we will call and set up an appointment." Peter didn't understand why she wanted to wait, Dr. VonBock himself said it was important to start as soon as possible. But, Peter did not question it, nor did he complain. He didn't want to make Mrs. Samwort, or her eerily silent husband, angry.

He was very grateful that he got his own bedroom. It had a small bed in the corner under a window that looked over the large backyard – there was an apple tree and a garden where Mrs. Samwort grew herbs and zucchinis and pumpkins. His bed was dressed in sheets and matching duvet that had red racing cars on them. He didn't really like racing cars, but he didn't tell anyone this. It was warm and cozy and, for now, he could call it his. His bed had drawers underneath the mattress and Peter happily discovered that if he pulled them all the way out, he could crawl underneath and hide. He liked to take an apple juice, bowl of crackers, and a flashlight he found in there and look at picture books. Mrs. Samwort had asked him what sorts of things he was interested in, and he said, "I like the ocean," because it was the first thing that had popped his head, and so she went to the library and brought a plethora of books about the oceans, fish, and boats for him to took at. He would hide under his racing car bed until he was called for dinner.

Mr. and Mrs. Samwort had their own children, too. A son, Mason, close to Peter's age and daughter called Penelope, who was well into her teens and always looked grumpy. Mason was alright, but he was always very hyper and Peter often found himself feeling quite tired if he had to play with him for long periods of time. Penelope generally shut herself in her room and listened to loud music; the most she and Peter had talked in the week he had been living with them was a, "hey," the first night he was there.

Peter did not want to go back to school. He did not feel ready, he did not want to face his peers and look so different. Even if it was a new school, and he didn't know anybody, he knew nobody would understand what the last few months had been like for him. He was the new kid with a disability and he didn't even have his own parents anymore. Mrs. Samwort had decided he was ready to go back and that he would start to feel better once he had a stable routine. She, of course, did not bother to ask Peter what he wanted.

He snuck into the kitchen on Monday morning while Mrs. Samwort was in the bathroom and went into her purse. He found the card with Dr.O's clinic information on it and put it in the front pocket of his new, superhero backpack.

"Ready to go to your first day back to school?" Mrs. Samwort said cheerfully, entering the kitchen. Peter stood straight, forced a smile, and nodded.

As soon as she dropped him at the gates to the school, he waited until he saw her car drive around a corner, and took off down the street. He took two busses and walked several blocks, stopping to show a few adults the card and asking for directions, before he finally found himself standing in front of Dr. O's clinic. It was closed.

He sat on the ground in front of it and moped. Surely someone would be coming in today? He couldn't see posted hours anywhere, but it was a regular Monday, so he decided to wait for a little while.

Before long, he heard someone walking towards him, looked up hopefully and froze.

It was Dr. O's assistant, Tino. He didn't know Tino very well... he seemed nice, but Peter was not sure how he would react to Peter being here suddenly without an appointment. Would he get in trouble? Tino kept brushing his long, white-blonde hair out of his eyes with one hand, looking at something on his cellphone in the other. A set of keys were looped around one of his fingers, chiming together as he walked.

Tino abruptly stopped walking when he saw Peter, his mouth dropping open.

"Peter?" he asked coming forward again, jingling the set of keys. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I came to see Dr. O," he ducked his head down and stared at his shoes, hoping Tino would see how sorry he pretended to feel for turning up uninvited. He peeked up through his eyelashes and Tino was unlocking the door, giving him a strange, side-ways look.

"He's not in," he was saying as he pushed open the door, a pair of bells ringing as he did. Peter's heart sank. "But, he'll be in later." He held the door open and motioned for Peter to go inside, he scrambled to his feet and did so, smiling up at the receptionist. "Do your foster parents know that you're here? I don't think I received a call from them to schedule an appointment..."

"Uhh," Peter started pulling on the hem of his t-shirt, wondering how best to answer the question. Tino was giving him a stern look and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression seemed to suggest that Peter better not fib. "Mrs. Samwort thinks I'm at school."

They stared at each other. Peter hoped Tino wouldn't make him call Mrs. Samwort; she was probably at work right now and he could imagine her quite angry that he didn't stay at school. Would Tino make him go back to school? He really did not want to be there, he would rather sit outside somewhere and wait for the day to pass. He didn't have any more money for a bus, so it would likely take him most of the day just to walk back to the Samwort house, anyway. He hoped he wouldn't have to walk back...

"Alright," Tino said at last, "you can wait here until Dr. O comes in," Peter grinned in thanks.

Tino went about his morning duties, preparing the office for the day's patients. Peter sat in one of the waiting room chairs and watched him as he turned on all the lights, sorted paperwork, pulled charts, stamped results. Tino swept the office floor, wiped down all the countertops and door handles, all while maintaining a pleasant conversation.

The bells above the door jingled and Peter jumped, whirling around in his chair, but it was not Dr. O. Tino greeted the man, "Good morning, Raivis!"

Raivis had a very young face and Peter thought he looked like he couldn't be that much older than himself; he must have been a lot older than he appeared because he was wearing red scrubs and had a hospital ID tag hanging around his neck. He combed his dirty blonde hair back with his fingers and greeted Tino, his blue eyes widening when he noticed Peter sitting in the corner.

"Hey," he said, "I know you! I've taken your pictures before. Left brachial..." he trailed off and blinked rapidly, noticing where the flesh of Peter's arm ended and hard prosthetic began. Peter forced a smile.

"Hello." Peter didn't mind that Raivis didn't seem to know what to say next. He turned his attention back to the door, hoping Dr. O would come through it soon.

He didn't.

He was only vaguely aware when Raivis excused himself and Tino started prattling on again, his voice light and cheery. Only when he heard mention of his foster family did he snap his attention back to the receptionist.

"You probably need to call and let Mrs. Samwort know where you are so she doesn't worry," he was saying, coming towards Peter and kneeling on the floor in front of him. Peter stared at Tino and said nothing. He didn't want Mrs. Samwort to know where he was, he'd probably get trouble. He didn't want to be yelled at by her scary husband.

"When is Dr. O going to get here?" he asked instead, eyeing the door through his hair. He missed the look of concern flash across Tino's face.

"Don't you think we should call Mrs. Samwort, first?" Tino tried again. Peter shook his head. "Why not?" He had nothing to respond with, so he stayed silent. "What about your school then, should we call them?" Peter shook his head again. He'd never been to that school before, he was certain they wouldn't miss him. He looked down at his shoes. He just wanted to see Dr. O.

"Peter," Tino bent down just low enough so Peter can't help but look at his concerned face. "What do _you_ want?"

Peter's head snapped up and his mouth fell open, "w-what?" Tino offered an encouraging smile and placed one of his hands on Peter's knee. He adjusted so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"What are you thinking? What do you feel?"

"I-" no grownup had ever asked Peter what he wanted, what he thought, what he felt. It was an overwhelming sensation to suddenly have the freedom to express what was going on in his head. He didn't know what to say first.

"I don't want to go back to the Samwort house," he blurted, "I..." and then the flood gates burst open and a torrent of emotions started oozing out from every nook and cranny in Peter's body. He bit down on his lip in a feeble attempt to hold it back, but the tears blurring his vision warned him that he wouldn't be able to hold anything in for much longer. Tino suddenly reached forward and pulled Peter out of the chair and his lap, cradling his head against his chest. Peter began to sob.

Tino held him tightly, rocking back and forth, murmuring into Peter's hair, telling him that everything would be okay and that it was alright to cry and that Peter could tell Tino anything he wanted, he wouldn't get mad. Peter clung to Tino's soft sweater, content to let the sobs shake his entire body while he thought about what to say, what he _could_ say. He wasn't sure he could say anything at all, no matter how much he wanted to let it all out. His emotions were going to come before his words.

He wanted to tell Tino that his mother used to be very kind, but then his dad suddenly stopped coming home. After that, his mother stopped looking at Peter and stopped seeming to care. She was very sad all of the time and would not come out of her room. Peter wanted to tell Tino that after a very long time of feeling ignored – he was just as sad about his dad as his mom was, but he still found time to eat something in the mornings for breakfast – a new man started coming over to see Peter's mother. He was nice at first, but then he started to change. Still, Peter's mother would not look at him and she would turn her head away when the new man would yell at Peter and call him names like useless and worthless. Peter couldn't help that he was small and he couldn't reach the nobs to turn on the stove to make himself dinner. He couldn't help the fact that sometimes he had an accident and a cup would break or he'd burn his hands on the rack in the oven when he tried to make frozen pizza. He tried not to cry, the new man never liked it when he cried. He told Peter he could cry only if he had permission, and then only if he did so silently.

Peter was not quietly crying, now. He could hear his voice wailing into Tino's sweater and the soothing sounds of Tino's voice, one hand rubbing Peter's back and the other carding through his hair. It reminded Peter of a mother.

Peter wanted to tell Tino that the new man would only let Peter eat if he had been a good boy, and there were many days when he was not a good boy, even though he did not understand what it was he had done wrong. He wanted to tell Tino that the new man had demanded Peter call him 'father', but he was not very fatherly and Peter didn't want to call him something that should only be reserved for someone special; the man wouldn't let him come back into the house unless he called him that, and so Peter slept outside. He wanted to tell Tino that he had tried climbing the tree in the backyard to get away from the world he was in, because somehow being higher up meant he was safe, but he had slipped in the gloom of the night and fell. He had hurt his arm, but he did not cry, he patiently waited for morning, sitting on the back stoop and shivering, soaking wet with dew by the time anyone bothered to check on him. The man yelled at him for being so stupid and none of it would have happened if he had just called him 'father' in the first place.

So Peter said, "yes, father," and he was allowed back the house, his arm throbbing and searing in pain, but still he did not cry. He had cut his arm somewhere in the fall and the wound stung, but it wasn't bleeding. He could see it in the bathroom mirror if he held it up in front of him, a big angry line between his shoulder and elbow. He did his best to clean it up, his mother still wouldn't look at him and his 'father' only yelled if he asked for help.

Peter wanted to tell Tino that his teacher at school did not notice his injury that day, or the next, or the next. Peter made sure to wear long sleeves and he liked to sit in the back of the room, as far away from any adult as he could get. Back there he could pretend he was somewhere else, in a world where arms didn't hurt and mothers smiled at their children and father's didn't leave their families. His arm hurt so bad some days he couldn't bring himself to move it, so he would use his right arm to raise his hand and ask to go to the bathroom. There, he would look at the cut and inspect what it was doing. It turned several different colours and then one day it started oozing. Peter thought this was normal, nobody ever told him otherwise, and his 'father' only told him to man up. So he jut out his chin and took a deep breath, he could be a man and wait for it to heal on its own.

His teacher only found out because one of the other boys in his class complained that Peter was starting to smell funny. Peter didn't remember much of that day, he hadn't been sleeping well and he felt constantly hot and weak, but he had to be a man and toughen up, it was just a scrape. He couldn't feel his fingers anymore, but that was only because he was weak. His teacher had asked him why his parents had not taken him to a hospital, and "how long ago did you hurt yourself, Peter? Why didn't you tell someone?" Only he _had_ told someone, that someone told him to wipe the dirt off his nose and deal with it himself. So he had tried. "Peter," his teacher had said, "don't be so silly next time, go to an adult." He didn't like the tone in her voice, but after that the day was sort of a blur. He only vaguely remembers collapsing and being carried to the nurse's office. He doesn't remember much of the ambulance ride at all, only blonde hair slicked back, a pair of bright blue eyes, and a frowny face staring down at him. The blue-eyed man spoke in a thick accent that he didn't understand and he wasn't sure he liked – it sounded angry, and it made Peter want to cry, but he held it in because he had not been told that he was allowed to cry, yet.

A woman with bright red lipstick had appeared at some point and was trying to ask Peter questions, but he couldn't focus on her voice for very long. She had asked him if anyone had ever touched him in an inappropriate place, and he wanted to roll his eyes and tell her that nobody ever touched him anymore and that was part of the problem; but, when he rolled his eyes in annoyance, the did not come down again and he was lost in the darkness.

Peter wanted to tell Tino that when he woke up for the first time he felt very hungry. He wanted to tell him that he was afraid of Dr. Bondevik at first, his face was very angry looking, but his eyes were a lot softer than any he'd seen in a long time. Peter would focus on the golden cross barrette that was in Dr. Bondevik's hair, holding it neatly out of his eyes. When he turned his head, Peter could see his reflection in it, and he liked to pretend that his reflection was the real him, and he was just a silent observer in another world, feeling sad for the Peter in the pin. It was easier to handle the news Dr. Bondevik told him if he wasn't the one that actually had to deal with it.

He wanted to tell Tino that Dr. O was his hero.

He cried Tino's chest until his head was throbbing with a headache and he had no more energy to spend on tears. He's not sure how long he sat sniffling, Tino rocking him back and forth. Peter felt safe there for the first time in ages. Tino's arms tight around him reminded him of his mother, how she used to be.

The door to the office jingled, but Peter did not bother to look up. He was warm and safe right where he was. Heavy footsteps were behind him, and he could feel the pace of Tino's heart pick up. Tino stopped rocking and felt very rigid under Peter, but he didn't mind, he still clung to his sweater and squeezed his eyes shut. Tino said, "Dr. O...!" There was a soft thud, like someone dropping to the floor behind him, and then another set of arms were wrapping around Peter from behind, sandwiching him between two warm chests and he started to cry again.

.

Tino wasn't sure exactly what to do to help the poor boy crying in his lap. He hadn't expected a reaction like that. He knew that he needed to call Peter's foster family, that they must be aware that he didn't make it to school by now, but the sheer terror in Peter's face made him hesitate. Tino wasn't sure if Peter was crying out for his mother or calling Tino by the endearment, it didn't matter much either way, so he held him tightly and tried to tell him soothing things, that everything was going to be okay, even though he wasn't sure if it was.

Dr. O came the office, his face betraying his true emotions, not bothering to mask them behind his glasses. His eyes were wide in shock at the sight of Tino and Peter on the floor, his mouth dropping open, before he set it a grim line of determination. He crossed the room and dropped to the floor in front of them and gathered Peter and Tino both up his arms. Peter started to cry again, but it wasn't the desperate sobs from earlier, it was much quieter and soft. Tino ignored his racing heart as he felt Berwald's hands on his shoulder blades, sandwiching the small boy snug between them.

Eventually Peter fell silent and Berwald released them both. Tino caught his eye and it said, '_we need to talk_', so Tino nodded and picked himself up off the floor, cradling Peter in his arms. He laid him out on a couch in the waiting room, brushing the hair out of Peter's eyes. He was halfway between awake and sleep, eyes fluttering open at Tino's touch.

"I'll be right back," he said, smiling, "I'm just going to talk with Dr. O for a minute," Peter nodded, eyes drifting closed. His face was swollen and red from crying. He looked so small and fragile on the couch.

Tino followed Berwald into his office.

"Dr. O," he was so overcome with concern for the small boy he left in the front office he forgot to feel shy around his boss. He shut the door quietly behind him and turned to face Berwald, the doctor leaning against his desk, arms folded tight over his broad chest, expression carefully neutral. "I'm worried about Peter." He stated simply, unsure of what sort of response he should be watching for in Berwald's eyes.

"I'm going to adopt him."

If Tino had been holding anything he would have dropped it right at that moment. With nothing in his hands, his jaw fell open.

"You're... _what_?!" Berwald's expression no longer looked neutral, but rather, a quiet panic was there just behind a calm facade. Tino noticed his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, likely searching for something else to say aloud. "Berwald, adopting a kid is... that's a serious decision, you can't just..." Emotional issues aside, the legality of the thing was more than Tino could comprehend. He wasn't even aware that Peter was completely parentless.

"Lukas told me his mother gave 'im up to the state." Oh, well then. "I've been thinkin' about it since I first saw 'im."

"Does Peter _know_?" Berwald shook his head, swallowing again. "Have you even asked him if that's what he wants?" Berwald paused, looking mildly confused, before the panic returned with a vengeance. His eyes said, '_Oh god, I never asked him. Oh god, what if he doesn't want me to? I've already started the paperwork, what should I do?_'

"S'social worker is coming by this evening for an interview." Tino nodded, dumbfounded. He had no idea his boss had been planning on _adopting_.

Their conversation was cut short by the office door jingling and a woman shrieking Peter's name. Tino blew through the door and into the front, ready to defend the small boy he had left on the couch.

Peter was sitting up, wide-eyed and panicked, a brown-haired woman with glasses was standing not far away from him.

"Where have you been? The school called and said you didn't show up!" she was yelling. "but, how can that be? I dropped you off there this morning!" She did not strike Tino as unkind, only worried, but her tone was shrill and Peter was visibly shaken by it. He threw himself between them, outstretching his arms and glaring at the woman.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" He already knew who this woman could be.

"Ah, I am sorry! My foster son... I told him that I would schedule an appointment to come to, I assume this is Dr. O's clinic, once he was _settled_, but he deliberately disobeyed me. I am sorry if he has caused you any trouble."

Tino shook his head, "not at all, I assume you are Mrs. Samwort," he lowered his arms and extended a hand in greeting, but did not soften his glare. _Nobody_ was going to yell at that little boy while he was around, no matter the situation. Mrs. Samwort took his hand and shook it, smiling. Her eyes flickered past Tino as a hand dropped to his shoulder.

"This is Dr. O," Tino said, not needing to look back at who was standing behind him. The gentle squeeze on his shoulder told him everything he needed. "I am sorry we didn't call you sooner, we had something come up." Mrs. Samwort nodded and glanced at Peter, who was standing awkwardly nearby, looking between Dr. O, Tino, and his foster mother. Berwald squeezed Tino's shoulder again, urging him on. "I assume we will see Peter on Monday morning for his first round of therapy. 10:00 am sharp. We can arrange then when you can come more regularly." He was not giving Mrs. Samwort room for negotiation, his tone making it very clear that he was prepared to maul her if she so much as disagreed. Her eyebrows knit together, but she nodded. She sighed and stretched her hand out to Peter.

"Come on luv, let's get you home. I can make you a sandwich for lunch." Peter hesitated then slowly reached out and took her hand. Mrs. Samwort assured Tino they would be there Monday morning, and pulled Peter along towards the door.

Before they could exit, Berwald spoke up, "Mrs. S'mwort," she froze, both her and Peter turned to look at him, eyes wide, "s'he safe with you?" She blinked a few times in surprise before she found her voice.

"Of course," she said. She waited a moment in case the doctor would say anything more then left.

Tino finally let himself exhale.

The day passed without any more incident. It was a slow day in the office, and Tino was glad for it, he couldn't focus on much after the morning no matter how hard he tried. It was almost five when the red lipstick woman came through the doors and approached him at his desk. He did not bother to hide his exhaustion as he half-heartedly greeted her, his normally chipper tone having been misplaced somewhere during the afternoon.

"I'm Mrs. Perrin, I have an appointment to see Dr. O this evening." She wasn't on the schedule, and all of her limbs seemed to be intact. Tino's eyes widened when he realized who she must be and he sat straighter in his chair.

"Oh!" he cried, "yes, of course!" He stood and brushed his hands down his pants, palms sweaty, and he lead her to Dr. O's office door. He knocked softly, a grunt of reply came from inside, and Tino popped his head in. "Mrs. Perrin is here to see you," he said and Berwald waved her in without looking up from the paperwork in front of him. Tino opened the door further and motioned for the woman to enter. He smiled brightly.

Tino tried to go back to his desk and concentrate on doing his own work, but now his mind was being pulled towards Dr. O's office door. He paced through reception, tried to marvel at the pretty evening sky out of the office windows. He couldn't stand still. His boss was being interviewed so he could apply to become a boy's legal guardian.

After several minutes, Tino could not help but press his ear to the door and listen to the hushed conversation going on inside.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Oxenstierna," the woman was saying, "single applicants don't often get past the first phase of process. Even being financially stable and with glowing recommendations from the boy's hospital staff, it would be in Peter's best interest to be plugged a family unit. If you were married this whole thing would go a lot smoother-" Tino mentally screamed at his hands to stay away from the doorknob, but it was too late. He stumbled the room, earning a startled look from both Mrs. Perrin and Dr. O.

"I'm his wife!" he heard himself cry out, Berwald's mouth dropping open and Mrs. Perrin's eyes widening a fraction.

"Oh!" She turned to Berwald, who was staring at Tino, "why didn't you say something, Mr. Oxenstierna? Why on earth did you check 'single' on your application if you're married?" She looked between the two.

Berwald opened and closed his mouth, his eyes finally fluttering back to the woman, "I-I must'a jus'... made a mistake...?" His eyes found Tino's again, his expression unreadable.

"Please – Tino, was it? – won't you join myself and your husband?" She motioned to the chair next to her opposite Berwald at his desk. Without breaking eye contact, waiting for any obvious sign that he should not sit, Tino made his way to the chair and slowly lowered himself it. Oh God, _what had he done_.

He kept his lips firmly pressed together throughout the interview, forcing a smile and brief answers if Mrs. Perrin happened to direct any questions towards him. She got the subtle hint that Berwald was in charge, and mostly focused on him.

She carefully described the state in which Peter had been found when he was seized by the Ministry of Children and Family, detailing the levels of neglect he had suffered while living with his birth mother. She told them about what they had found when the went to his house and did a walk-through while Peter was hospitalized, and how his mother had been quick to sign away responsibility for her son. Tino's heart broke when he heard that she had not even asked which hospital he had been staying in.

She discussed the mental and emotional ramifications in children who underwent such psychological trauma, and was pleased when Berwald said he knew of the therapist Peter had been referred to.

"It is good that you were so heavily involved in the beginning of his recovery," she was saying, "you are an adult that he has come to trust. This looks very good for your application."

"What do you know of his current foster placement?" Tino couldn't keep the words from spilling out of his mouth, Mrs. Perrin turned to face him.

"Oh, well, I can't say much because of confidentiality, but they are good people." She offered a smile before turning back to Berwald. Their conversation (albeit, a bit one-sided) continued and Tino chewed on the inside of his cheek. He wasn't satisfied with the answer he had received, but refrained from saying much else.

There was a beat of awkwardness when she questioned how long they had been married, pen poised to fill in the answer. She glanced at Berwald, then to Tino, who cleared his throat.

"Well, you see," he wasn't sure how to answer that – they _weren't_ married. Or even romantically involved.

"I'm sorry," she said, "how long have you been in a civil relationship?"

"We've been together about five years, now," Berwald said, the steady tone of his voice setting Tino's heart into a frenzy. It wasn't technically a lie... Satisfied, Mrs. Perrin wrote that down. She asked no more questions about their relationship.

Finally, the woman made motions that she was ready to leave and Tino snapped his attention back to her. She stood and shook each of their hands, thanking them for their time, and that she would be in touch with Berwald shortly. She turned and opened the office door, letting herself out.

Berwald stopped Tino from following Mrs. Perrin out of his office, and shut the door behind her. Tino was about to protest that it was rude to leave her to exit the front by herself, but he stopped himself when he saw Berwald's expression. He looked very serious.

"I, uh," Tino did not want to look into Berwald's piercing gaze long enough to read what his eyes were trying to say. He felt quite frightened now that the woman had gone and he was left standing in the resulting aftermath of his big mouth. "I did something bad, didn't I?" He glanced at Berwald, his face still stony, and he looked down again, hiding his face. "I'm Sorry if I ruined that for you, Berwald. I just... I just heard her saying that your chances were not good if you didn't have a family and I'm not sure what came over me," Tino began to panic, which resulted in more words spilling from his mouth like a tsunami, an unstoppable force. "I mean, everyone already calls me your wife, I may as well assume the role. Not that I think we should actually get married or anything – not that I'd mind being married to you. Actually, I think I'd quite enjoy it because I like you so much. Would people still call me your wife if we were married? Because, really, I'm a _man_ so I'd be your husband. But a husband is still a family and then you'd have better luck at adopting, or at least fostering, Peter – who is so very precious and I wouldn't mind being his new mum – or dad – I'm not actually sure what he would call me if we were, or were not, married. Would I be anything to him at all? Or-"

Berwald closed the space between them, gently took Tino's face both into of his hands, and pressed their lips together, silencing Tino's verbal torrent.

The world stopped.

Tino's eyes widened as he processed the sensation of Berwald's hands on his face and his lips against his own. Berwald broke the simple kiss and backed away, his eyes not clearly saying anything and his mouth opening and closing like he couldn't find physical words, either.

"Oh, well, I..." Tino touched his fingers to his lips, not breaking the eye contact between them, "...didn't expect _that_." He inhaled and held his breath; then, as if moving by their own accord, his hands reached forward and grabbed the collar of Berwald's shirt and pulled him down for another kiss.

Berwald readily responded, his arms circling around Tino's waist and pulling him flush to his chest. Tino let his arms loop around Berwald's neck, fingers sliding up into that soft, golden hair. It felt just the way Tino had imagined it would. Tino kissed Berwald and Berwald kissed Tino back and neither of them had any alcohol to drink. Their mouths moved together like they were two pieces of a puzzle, finally interlocking to complete a picture. Tino hummed happily, his mouth parting, and he was quite surprised when Berwald's tongue slipped inside. He had no idea Berwald could be so forward, but it was pleasant, and Tino reveled in the sensation of him exploring his mouth. His grip on the doctor tightened and he struggled to remain standing upright, the passion Berwald was pouring into their kiss was making Tino more than a little light-headed.

Berwald's arms hugged Tino closer, one of his hands sliding up Tino's back until his fingers wove their way into his hair, cradling the back of his head. Berwald's other hand gripped the bottom of Tino's shirt tightly, as if he were afraid to let go. Tino didn't want him to let go. He wanted to melt into Berwald and never have their perfect kiss come to an end.

It did eventually, of course, as all things do. They stared at each other, red-faced and panting. Tino's face split into a grin and laughter bubbled up from his chest. Confusion danced through Berwald's eyes and Tino shook his head.

"Oh, Dr. O – _Berwald_," he laughed again, "I think I have wanted you to kiss me for a very long time."

Berwald's lips curled into a rare, genuine smile in return, "I am so in love with you T'no." Tino's breath hitched in his chest and he bit down on his lip. Berwald continued to smile, and leaned in to brush their lips together again, sweet and simple. His kiss said, '_it's alright, you don't have to say anything_.' Tino wanted to scream out that he loved him in return, but he was distracted by Berwald's breath against his mouth, and he relaxed into the larger man, humming again in content. He could tell him later, after their lips parted again, perhaps. He had all the time in the world to convey just how much he had fallen in love with the doctor. _His_ Dr. O.

"I though' last Friday was an accident, that you were ashamed." Berwald pulled their mouths apart and buried his nose into Tino's hair.

"Well, truthfully, I was. But only because I was drunk and I thought you would be quite cross with me."

Tino felt Berwald shake his head, pressing his face against the top of his head, arms circling around him tighter. They stood still for a time, silent, appreciating the closeness finally achieved between them.

"So," Tino cleared his throat, "just to be clear... you and I are – you're my – we are... we're a _thing_ now, yes?"

Berwald laughed. It was not very loud, but it was definitely a chuckle, which was strange, since Tino could not recall ever actually hearing Berwald laugh before. It made his stomach flutter and his chest warm up in affection. He wished he could see Berwald's face while he made such a happy noise – he couldn't imagine what it looked like. He wanted to hear it more, but Berwald stopped and spoke instead, "Yes, T'no. I want you to be my partn'r."

"That's good, I want that too." He said, pouting since the laughter stopped. Berwald released him from their embrace held him at arm's length.

"It's been a long day. Can I drive you home?" Berwald asked, tilting his head to one side, searching Tino's eyes for an answer in case his words lied. Tino shook his head, smiling.

"Actually, I kind of want to walk tonight. It's been a..." he searched for the right word to describe it, unable to find one he simply said, "It's been a day. I'm not quite ready to be home." He was telling the truth. Walking home would give him more time to play over the events of the day, especially this last bit, before duties at home took up his evening. Berwald's eyes asked Tino if he was sure, and Tino nodded. "I like walking," he said. Finally satisfied, Berwald released Tino and took a step back.

"Alright," he didn't quite look like he was sure what to do next. "Can I see you t'morrow?" Tomorrow was Saturday. The thought of seeing his boss – his _boyfriend_ – on an off day caused his chest to flutter and his stomach to leap into his throat.

"Yes, please."

"Text me when you wake up. I'll lock up for the night, you can head home."

"Yess, boss," Tino winked at the dark look that came over Berwald's face before he realized Tino was making a joke. Tino grabbed his things from under his desk and waved goodbye as he stepped out into the cool, evening air.

The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky in a swath of pink and orange. He decided to skip taking the bus and simply walk the entire way home, even though it would take him longer. He could sleep in the next morning (if he was able) and so he was unconcerned about getting home early enough to finish the dishes in his sink, shower, and read a bit before going to bed. He was not anticipating being able to sleep much tonight, not now that he was officially dating his doctor.

He wondered if he should text Eduard.

He thought about Peter. The boy had a turbulent past, and clearly needed some loving figures in his life. Tino had accidentally signed himself up to become his guardian, and should Berwald's application to foster be approved, would he be good enough? He had always wanted kids of his own, but never thought he'd have the opportunity to be a parent. Berwald seemed like the perfect sort to be a father – he was stern, loving, and fiercely protective. Peter would have the best father in the world.

Tino did not see the pair of headlights coming for him. One moment he was walking down the sidewalk lost in his own thoughts, face upturned to the evening sky above, smiling and breathing deeply of the early summer evening air when suddenly he was weightless.

He heard his head connect with the hood of the car, it felt warm from the heat of the engine. The air in his lungs whooshed out and his ears were ringing as he was taken over by the sensation that he was flying. The sound the pavement made when he collided with it was sickening, but Tino hardly noticed. When he was finally still again the world around him was silent, like the air was made of cotton, and he could feel warmth seeping out of him. His thoughts were muddled, misfiring and unfocused. He was staring at a little piece of clover that was growing between the cracks of the sidewalk when the darkness swallowed him whole.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Oooh, common. I couldn't leave you hanging a whole WEEK after a chapter ending like that!

**Boffinness**,** ScandinavianMutt**,** IceCreamHeartedAru**, **MakeSconesNotWar**, and everyone else who has taken the time to review, thank you so very much! I write for you!

Follow me on Tumblr (une-pomm3)? There's almost always snippets for the next chapter on my sneak-peek page!

* * *

Peter fell asleep sitting in a chair while holding Berwald's hand.

He sat up, the navy blue bed sheets, fluffy pillows piled around him, and the blue and golden yellow quilt were unfamiliar. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the simple room. He was at Berwald's house – his new house. This was _his_ room. It was a very plain room, not unlike the hospital he had stayed in for so many weeks. He found it oddly comforting.

He stumbled out of bed and into the hall and was surprised to see Matthias lounging on the couch, sipping on a steaming mug and watching TV.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted and Peter rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "I brought you home last night after you fell asleep." He nodded.

He had hoped last night had been a bad dream.

He was very glad he was no longer staying with the Samwort's, but he had been frightened by the sight of Dr. O falling apart on the kitchen floor, and again in the hospital. Tino must be very important to him. He wondered if Dr. O would react the same if he had been the one laying in that hospital bed – he shook the thought from his head. He _had_ been in that hospital bed, and too recently. Only, nobody had sat the night crying at his side. He tried not to feel jealous.

"S'Tino okay?" He wasn't sure why he asked. He already knew the answer.

"He's not awake yet, if that's what you mean." Matthias frowned, "but, hey, let's not think about that right now. We're gonna do something fun today!" Peter wasn't sure what could be fun now. He wasn't even sure he knew how to have fun, anymore. "But first! Breakfast!" Matthias jumped to his feet and pulled Peter into the kitchen.

He could only stomach a couple bites of scrambled eggs and a few sips of orange juice; Matthias just seemed happy that he ate anything at all. He handed Peter a new toothbrush and toothpaste and sent him to the bathroom to wash up. While he was brushing his teeth, he heard a knock at the door and Matthias chatting happily to whomever he let in.

Peter reemerged and found Emil, the frowny assistant from the hospital and Dr. Bondevik's younger brother, standing there holding a lumpy black garbage bag. He was frowning.

"Some old clothes," he stated flatly, "we need to get you out of whatever it is you're wearing and into something clean, at least."

"Then," Matthias popped up, grinning, "we're going to go shopping!" Peter tilted his head, not sure how to respond. He followed Emil to his room and watched as he dumped the contents of the bag out on to his bed and starting going through the items.

"I'm coming along," he said, holding up a an old t-shirt with puffins on the front, "because I don't trust Matthias' fashion sense." Peter raised an eyebrow, he saw the pair of white knee-high boots sitting by the door, he wasn't sure he trusted _Emil's_ fashion sense. He said nothing in complaint. He didn't feel that shopping was going to help anybody after the previous night, but Matthias was trying so hard to look cheerful and Peter appreciated his effort.

Emil eventually coaxed Peter into a pair of light brown shorts that were much too big for him, the hems resting under his knobby knees. The thing was held up by a belt that Matthias had to poke a new hole through with a knife just so he could clasp it shut. Peter refused to wear the puffin t-shirt, and instead found himself donning a white button-down shirt with ruffles at the collar. He pulled on a pair of clean white socks and his ratty sneakers. Matthias said he looked _adorable_, Emil simply rolled his eyes, and Peter thought he looked stupid.

Matthias drove the three of them to a large department store where Peter got to pick out his own towels and anything he would need in the bathroom. They bought underwear and more socks than Peter was sure he'd be able to use in his lifetime and Emil kept disappearing and showing up again, arms laden with outfits he demanded Peter try on. Their cart piled up with pants, t-shirts, sweaters, a pair of superhero pajamas and a light blue suit Emil found on sale (Matthias said, "it looks like it belongs in the 70s," and Emil said, "that's what makes it so cool,"). Peter had never had so many clothes before, and he tried to hide his excitement that this was all for _him_.

At some point Matthias had found cookies on sale and added those to the cart, and Emil slid in face creams, body wash, and a round thing he called a bath bomb. Peter wasn't sure why he'd want to blow up a bathtub, but he didn't ask questions. A very large bag of pretzels turned up, several magazines, and everyone picked out a pair of shoes (except Peter, who got two) when they passed the shoe department. Matthias insisted they go through the toy department, and Peter picked out a puzzle with ships on it, Matthias found several different Lego sets to add to the cart, and Emil hummed and hawed over board games before choosing Life, a box collection of classics, and a deck of cards ("I'm pretty sure even _Berwald_ has cards in his house," Matthias said. "Who said they are for him?" Emil replied).

Finally, on their way to the check-outs, Matthias made Peter choose a stuffed animal.

"I don't need it," Peter had insisted.

"Sure you do! You'd better choose one, or I will for you!" Peter saw him eyeing a giant, plush snake, so he quickly grabbed whatever was closest to him: a golden lion with a frizzy mane.

Peter watched with wide eyes as the cashier rang up all of their items, the total flashing on the screen getting larger and larger making Peter feel more and more nervous. Maybe they had chosen too much? Peter was considering telling Matthias he wanted to put some things back when a hand clapped down on his shoulder and Matthias was grinning at him. He held a shiny credit card up between two of his fingers.

"Thank you Berwald for the gifts we are about to receive," he said, grinning, and handed the card to the cashier.

"Does Dr. O know that you are using his card to buy all this?" He watched the receipt printing, an endless stream of paper spitting out.

"'Course he does, kiddo, this was his idea." Matthias ruffled his hair. "Well, most of it." They loaded up their cart and headed for the car, Emil trailing behind, his nose in one of the magazines they had bought.

"You know," Matthias said as he unlocked the car doors, "you can call him _Berwald_." Peter blinked. Dr. O had never told him to call him anything else, before. "Ooh, and you can call _me_ Uncle Matthias!"

"What's wrong with just Matthias?" Peter asked.

"Because I'm practically your uncle," Peter wasn't sure how, "Oh, and you can call Dr. Bondevik _Uncle_ Lukas!"

"Why would I call him that?"

"Matthias." Emil cut in to their exchange, raising an eyebrow over his magazine as he flipped a page. "Let's not get carried away." Peter thought it was all very overwhelming, but he didn't really mind. Mrs. Samwort had asked him to call her Aunty Em, but he didn't like her. He did like Matthias.

"Uncle Matthias, what are we having for lunch?" Matthias whooped and his face split into the biggest grin Peter had ever seen and he wondered if his head was in danger of breaking apart.

* * *

_The previous evening..._

* * *

Berwald heard the screams of the ambulances coming down the road before he saw them. He was getting into his car when they roared past the clinic, further down the road. He stood for a minute, watching the lights twirl and light up the buildings down the street, their sirens echoing down the alley nearby. He thought for a moment, watching them until they disappeared around a corner, then got into his car. He would take a different route home, he decided, so he could avoid the traffic an accident would likely cause.

His mouth was stretched into a smile the whole way home.

He never would have dreamed something so wonderful could happen to him. He had been greedy when he asked Tino to join him in his new practice, barely even hoping he'd agree to leave his job – he couldn't afford to pay him what the hospital did. But, he had said yes, and Berwald got to see him every day. He got to hear his voice and see his smiles; his chest would flutter to life every time their fingers would accidentally connect when Tino passed him a chart or his morning coffee.

And now Tino was _his_. He could barely breathe at the thought – but it was a pleasant sort of suffocation. The kind that only happens because of bliss. Tino was pure perfection in mismatched socks and a sunny smile that could light up a room, he was the cheer that Berwald craved, _needed. _Tino was outwardly everything Berwald felt inside, but struggled to get out, and Tino returned his affection despite of it.

Tino did not feel the way he had imagined in his arms – he felt better. He was warm, soft, his fingers cool as they played with his hair. He was gentle, his lips like velvet, everything about his mouth was delicious. His breaths hot, his voice a soothing thrum as it vibrated through his chest and straight into Berwald like wine being poured into a glass. Tino fit perfectly folded into his arms, his head sliding just under Berwald's chin like he was made to be there, pressed up against him, arms around his neck.

Ne plus ultra.

Berwald wasn't certain how he got home, only that he was suddenly unlocking the door to his apartment. He stepped inside and sighed.

His home wasn't anything to brag about, it was a fairly simple two-bedroom apartment with a small den. There was only one picture hung up, it was hanging on the wall between the kitchen and living room, of Berwald, Tino, Eduard, and Raivis standing in front of the clinic. The rest of the walls were bare, he was never sure how to decorate, to make a house look good and feel like home. There was a solid wood dining table with four chairs placed around it that he had all made himself; when he was younger, him and his father would go up to the family cabin, cut down trees, and build things. His father had taught him everything he knew about woodcraft and tinkering. In the living room was a plain navy blue couch and a matching armchair, between them an old leather chest Berwald had happened upon at a flea market and thought looked interesting; he had a piece of glass specially made to cover the top to fashion a sort of coffee table. A modest TV hung on the wall over a gas fireplace opposite the couch. There was a small balcony with nothing on it but two lawn chairs and a dead palm plant. The den housed a simple desk stacked with boxes and things Berwald had moved out of the spare bedroom, which was now home to a double-bed against one wall, new linens still in their packages sat atop new pillows – he had planned this all to be for Peter if he ever came to stay, but he didn't want to dress the bed in case it never happened. His own bedroom was dark, black-out curtains still pulled down over the window. He had a large bed, the frame hand-carved by his father as a gift for graduating medical school, a plain bedside table on either side and a dresser in one corner of the room. Nothing special, but comfortable.

It felt lonely, suddenly; Berwald sighed, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. He went about his evening business: showering, changing into a pair of faded sweatpants and t-shirt, preparing dinner (leftover stir fry), pouring a glass of wine, and flopping on to his couch. He clicked on the TV, but wasn't really paying attention, his mind torn between Peter and _his_ Tino.

He finished his wine with a gulp. Fishing his cellphone out of his pocket, he flopped on to his back, holding the phone over his face. He scrolled through his handful of contacts before coming to stop on Tino's name; he ran his finger over the illuminated text. He never knew he could feel so incandescently happy. He dropped his phone to the centre of his chest and sighed, throwing his arm over his eyes, smiling.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone rang. He must have fallen asleep, the program on the TV was different and the sky was completely dark outside of his living room window. His phone slid to the floor as he sat up and rubbed the back of his neck then scrubbed his hand down his face. His glasses were missing, fallen to the floor somewhere, he fumbled for his phone. He squinted at it, not recognizing the number displayed. It was almost 10 pm.

"'Lo?" he said into the receiver after he deliberated answering or not. At this late hour, it must be important.

"D-Dr. O?" came a very small, shaking voice on the other end.

"Pet'r? S'that you?" There was no verbal response, but a soft whimper, and Berwald started searching for his glasses in a panic, "What's wrong? Where are you?" he found his glasses and rose to his feet, jogging to the front door and slipping on a pair of flip-flops.

"M'at the Samwort house," was the whispered response, "Dr. O, h-he hit me..." Berwald's heart froze in his chest and he swallowed hard. "I'm hiding under my bed."

"Pet'r, do you know the address?" Peter did and he repeated the numbers and street name dutifully as Berwald wrote them down on a scrap piece of paper. "Do you know the number for your social worker?"

"Yes."

"Good boy. As soon as you hang up with me, call her. I'm comin' for you."

"O-okay." Berwald didn't want to hang up the phone, he wanted to stay connected to the boy until he could have a visual on him, to make sure he was okay. But he did, knowing he needed to call his social worker if he was going to be taken from the home that was supposed to keep him safe. Mrs. Samwort had promised. The blood ran hot and angry in his veins, like lava spilling down a mountainside. Before he left his apartment, he dialed another number into his phone. He was met with an answering machine:

"T'no, you're probably sleeping. M'goin' to pick up Pet'r. Something happened at his home. Call me when you get this, I'll pick up, no matter how late it is." He disconnected the call, grabbed his keys, and ran for his car, not bothering to lock his front door as he left.

Berwald gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, knuckles white, just to keep his hands from shaking. Peter lived on the other side of town.

By the time he arrived, no more than half an hour later, there was a police car parked on the street in front of the house and everyone was standing outside. Mr. and Mrs. Samwort were speaking to an officer on the front lawn, their son and daughter standing nearby, and Peter in the driveway with a woman wearing a wrinkled pantsuit with a blanket and her arm around his shoulders. He cut the engine and got out of his car, slamming the door shut behind him; he wasn't sure what he wanted to do first, punch Mr. Samwort square in the nose or rush to Peter's side to make sure he was okay.

He went to Peter, first.

He knelt in front of him and gently took the boy's face between his hands. He did not look visibly injured, just shaken. He wanted to say his name, to ask him if he was alright, but the words could not get past the lump forming in his throat. He ran his thumbs over his cheeks and hoped he could read his eyes the way Tino could.

Peter said nothing, but tears started to run down his cheeks and he threw his arms around Berwald's neck, burying his little face in his shoulder. Berwald hugged him tightly for a moment then rose to his feet, taking Peter with him. He turned to the woman, she had a cellphone out in front of her and a manila folder tucked under one of her arms.

"He needs t'come home with me." He blankly told her. She looked up from her phone, raising one eyebrow.

"You are Mr. Oxenstierna, I presume? I was just messaging Mrs. Perrin," she sighed heavily and nodded, "I am aware of your relationship with Peter." She talked more about putting a rush on his application and how things had to be processed by a judge for official approval. She explained that under the circumstances, and for Peter's safety, it was likely that he would be able to go home with Berwald, but there would be an ongoing investigation to follow. He stood and just stared at her while she continued to _tap-tap_ on her phone. She told him that he was very lucky he had already been interviewed and had gone to a foster parent information class.

After several minutes she looked up and smiled. She said, "if you can come over here, I just need you to sign some papers and Peter is free to leave with you." Peter's arms hugged him tighter as she said this. Berwald followed her to the police car, where she opened the folder on the hood and held out a pen. Berawld shifted Peter in his arms, took the pen, and scribbled his name where she pointed. He wasn't sure exactly what he was signing, but he didn't really care, either. As soon as he was finished he started to carry Peter to his car, then paused, heading instead towards Mr. and Mrs. Samwort and the officer on the lawn.

"Y'_promised_ he'd be safe," he said darkly, Mrs. Samwort looked up, startled. If it were not for Peter in his arms and the officer looking him up and down, he would have tackled the entire Samwort family to the ground in a fit of rage. Instead, he spun on his heel and ripped open his car door, very gently placing Peter inside. He asked him, "d'you even want to come with me?" Peter nodded and curled up in to the seat after Berwald made sure his seat-belt was secure. Without another word to anyone, he got into his car and drove home.

Samwort was a stupid name for a person, he thought.

No words were exchanged between Berwald and Peter as he drove them back to his apartment. He felt nervous the whole trip. Should he try to say something? Peter was curled into himself and Berwald could not see his face. Finally, Berwald parked in front of his apartment building and got out of the car, going around to the passenger side to help Peter; he was struggling to unclasp the belt, his face red and expression unreadable. Silently, Berwald reached forward and released it, and offered a hand to Peter, hoping it conveyed a, '_do you want me to carry you_?' Peter seemed to understand, he shook his head and pushed Berwald's hand away, eyes downcast.

Once inside, Berwald went straight for his guestroom to open the sheets and put them on the bed – it was late. He could hear Peter shuffling behind him, hovering just outside of the room.

"Sorry it's not ready," Berwald said, looking up as he tucked in the corners. Peter shrugged. This was not a comfortable silence. Had he made the right decision? Maybe it really was best Peter were plugged into a _real_ family unit. Berwald was unmarried and was only a few hours in a legitimate relationship with his receptionist. He knelt down in front of Peter and gently took hold of his narrow shoulders. "Pet'r," he said, hoping the boy would look up at him. He waited until their eyes met. "What are you thinkin'?" Peter chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting around the room before flickering up to meet Berwald's again, wide and frightened. He hoped his eyes were telling him, '_you can tell me anything_', but he wasn't sure how well the boy could read him, if at all. If only Tino were here to translate...

"I don't want to be here because soon you won't want me, too."

Berwald' heart shattered.

He choked back a dry sob and pulled the boy to his chest, wrapping his arms around him, and pressed his cheek to the top of his head. "That will nev'r be true," he said. He hoped his words rang deep and that Peter understood.

He wasn't sure why he had been so drawn to Peter from the first moment he saw his name typed across a page of chart notes. He knew his medical history, bits of his environmental and social history, and he knew his most recent story. He already knew Peter's blood type, how much he weighed when he was born, how much when he was when admitted to the hospital when he was ill, and when he was discharged. He saw the growth chart that tracked his length as a baby, and then his height as a child, abruptly ending a few years ago when his mother had stopped bringing him for check-ups to the doctor's office.

He knew Peter's immunizations were up to date, and that his development as a baby had been normal. He knew that he started school when he was five and a half and had good social growth when enrolled in full-time daycare. He'd seen the chart notes from when he had a cold, when he had strep throat, when he had pneumonia one year near Christmas and all the medications that he been prescribed to him in the past.

Berwald knew that Peter's father died of alcohol poisoning and his mother never recovered, and that she was quick to give up her baby in lieu to feed her own addictions. He knew Peter's home environment had likely been abusive, but there was no way to prove it since both his mother and her boyfriend denied everything brought forward.

He knew that he had been malnourished when admitted to the hospital, he was febrile with temperatures rising as high as 105.3 degrees Fahrenheit. He knew Peter had been very lucky the infection in his arm had not spread throughout his body, that he had been very close to dying and didn't even know it.

Berwald knew the first moment he saw Peter lying in the barren hospital room with no one there supporting him that he would do anything in his power to make sure nobody hurt that little boy ever again. He knew he had broken that promise the moment Peter had been taken away from the hospital and placed into foster care.

"Pet'r, I promise to make sure you always go to bed well-fed," he pulled Peter away from him and made sure their eyes were connected, so his words would be heard and he could make sure there was understanding in Peter's face. "I promise t'never hurt you; I promise t'guard you n'keep you safe from anyone who would try. You will always have a home here. This is a _safe_ place for you, Pet'r. This will _always_ be a safe place."

Peter very slowly nodded his head, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes were wide and frightened still, wet at the brims but no tears spilled over.

"You can _cry_, Pet'r." Berwald said, he was near tears himself, "it's alright."

Berwald hugged him again; he clung to Berwald's chest and cried. After a few minutes he settled down, the only sound in the room were his wet sniffles.

"Dr. O?" Berwald looked down at him, he tried to stretch his mouth into a small smile, "I am hungry." Berwald blinked.

"Wha' would you like t'eat?"

"Pancakes?" Berwald nodded.

They made pancakes at 11:45 at night. Peter wanted to eat in the middle of the kitchen floor, so that's where they sat, plates filled with stacked pancakes. Berwald did not have any syrup, so he opened a jar of peanut butter and all of the jams he could find in his fridge. Peter was thrilled with the sugary buffet and smiled around a glass of orange juice. They ate in comfortable silence and Berwald was thinking this was a good way to end the night, the length of the day finally starting to weigh heavy in his limbs.

His phone rang.

Positive it must be Tino, he reached for his phone in his pocket and flipped it open.

"T'no?" He said, smiling at Peter and ruffling his hair.

"Berwald." He froze. That was not his Tino's voice. He looked at the phone to see the number displayed and put it back to his ear, he swallowed hard.

"Matthias?" It sounded like Matthias tried to respond, but all he heard was a soft choking noise. There was a shuffle and the phone was transferred to somebody else.

"Berwald?" Lukas Bondevik, Berwald grunted in response, his heart hammering in his chest. Peter was in front of him, he could think of no other reason why either of the doctors at the hospital would be calling him at such a late hour, and social reasons was an unlikely motive. "I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay?" Adrenaline began to rush through the crooks of his elbows and behind his knees. He was thankful he was sitting on the floor. He nodded, then grunted again, aware that Lukas could not see his face. "Berwald, there was an accident..."

The world around him seemed to be filled with static, like there was a large waterfall crashing over him and he could not hear anything except for the rushing sounds. He wasn't sure what his voice was doing, but Peter clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tight. The kitchen floor was coming up at him faster than he could react, he pushed out his elbows to catch himself, still holding the phone to his ear with a shaking hand. Lukas was trying to talk to him, but his words weren't making any more sense.

"Berwald," he was calling softly, Lukas always did have a soothing voice, he was good in an emergency. "Breathe," Berwald inhaled through his nose, held it, then exhaled. He repeated this a few times, struggling to refocus his tired brain.

"S'he alive?" He was surprised his voice worked, but he was so glad that it did. He swallowed and swallowed again, the lump forming in his throat threatening to suffocate him.

"He's alive, Berwald." Lukas sighed. Berwald nodded, not caring he couldn't see. He tried to say that he would be right there, but no more words would come out. He simply hung up the phone and tossed it aside, focusing on his kitchen tiles and trying to remember to keep breathing.

A very small hand suddenly found its way to Berwald's and squeezed tightly; Berwald jerked up and focused on Peter, who visibly flinched, but did not back away. His eyes were wide, tears rolling down his cheeks, his bottom lip trembling.

"D-Dr. O?"

It took several minutes of deep breathing before Berwald found his voice again, "We have to go to th'hospital." Peter nodded and stood to his feet, still holding Berwald's hand.

.

Berwald was thankful to have Peter's hand in his own when he stepped in to the hospital room. He squeezed it tightly as he looked.

Lukas was suddenly standing beside him, one of his hands light on Berwald's elbow.

"He went straight in to surgery when he got here. Matthias wanted to be the one, but the Chief wouldn't let him." Berwald nodded. He wasn't sure if he wanted Lukas' direct way of talking, no matter how soothing his voice. Berwald had worked the ER for many years, he had seen people come in with injuries like this before, _he already knew_. Lukas seemed to sense this, so said nothing more about it. He wanted to ask _how_ – how could this have happened? He had seen Tino several hours before, bright and cheery, happy to walk home. He should have insisted on driving him home, then this would not have happened. If Berwald had just put his foot down his Tino would be sleeping, happy and comfortable, in his own bed right now. Berwald would see him in the morning, and then everything would be perfect and just the way it was supposed to be. They could have gone shopping together to pick out new clothes for Peter, and toys for his room. They could have made cookies and Berwald would have asked him how to make his house feel more like a _home_. Tino would know how.

Tino was laying still in the bed, blankets folded neatly at his chest and tucked all around him, one arm was straight at his side, the other bent over his abdomen, wrapped tightly. There were tubes in his nose, over his mouth, cords on his fingers, a cardiac machine steadily beeping nearby. His beautiful, perfect face was marred red and purple, his hair shaved away and head wrapped tight in gauze bandages. His nose looked broken and his one of his eyes was swollen and dark, his lips cracked and bloodied. Berwald tried not to notice that there was only one foot under the covers.

His eyes were on fire and the heat streaked down his cheeks, fogging up his glasses, obscuring Tino from his view. He raised his free hand to cover his mouth as he tried to hold back the emotion he was feeling, he had Peter to think about and Lukas watching him closely.

For the second time that night, Berwald's heart shattered.

* * *

**AN2:** This was supposed to be a light-hearted story. #Oops, amirite?

**Please be kind, drop a review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** This story is starting to get harder to write, as it is supposed to be fluffy. I do not want to do these characters an injustice or simply glaze over elements that I've introduced.

I hope I will not let you down!  
Apple

* * *

Tino tried to stay asleep.

He wasn't ready to wake up, but the sounds of the machinery and people chatting in the hall were impossible to ignore, as was the warm pressure on one of his hands. He opened his eyes, blinking at the tiled ceiling. He lay still, breathing even in and out, in and out, each breath eliciting sharp pains in his ribs and a burning sensation in his lungs. His throat felt like it had been rubbed raw with a cactus.

His whole person hurt. It was difficult to differentiate where one pain ended and another began. His vision swam and he noticed that one of his eyes seemed to be swollen shut. There was a dull ache in his nose, like he had bonked it on something while he slept. He wanted to reach up and feel his face, but he did not want to let go of Berwald's hand and his other arm was felt too heavy to move, weighed down and laying across his aching abdomen.

He tried to turn his head to face whomever was holding his hand, the sudden moment causing an burst of pain behind his eyes, searing hot, like his head was splitting in half. He paused, his eyes fluttering closed, and he waited for the shock of pain to subside before he slowly turned again.

Berwald.

His head was bowed, glasses pushed up on to his crown. One hand was holding his face, elbow propped on his knee, the other clutching Tino's. He couldn't tell if he was asleep, or simply sitting quiet. Behind him an explosion of colour, every spare surface crammed full of flowers, cards, and floating balloons with 'get well soon!' written on them in cheery lettering. He would have smiled if his lips had not felt so dry.

There was a wet sniffle and a shuddering breath and Tino refocused on the doctor attached to his hand. His head slowly raised and red-rimmed eyes weighed down by heavy bags locked on to Tino. Even with his face screaming '_grief_', he was still the most beautiful person Tino had ever seen. He wanted to reach out a hand and touch his face, to ask him why he looked so sad. Berwald inhaled sharply and his chair clattered to the floor behind him as he threw himself to the edge of Tino's hospital bed. His free hand hovered centimeters from Tino's cheek, like he wasn't sure if he could initiate physical contact or not.

"T-T-" he stuttered. Tino tried to say, 'hey,' but his lips barely moved and no noise came out. Berwald looked to be on the verge of hyperventilation, with no glasses to mask his emotions, his eyes shone bright with panic. Tino squeezed his hand, hoping to convey some sort of reassurance, '_I'm here, I'm alive_'.

A sudden surge of tears flooded his own eyes. _Why was he here_? The last thing he remembered was walking home from work... No, that wasn't right. He closed his eyes and fragments of memories began to burst across the back of his lids. He remembered the sunset, the smell of the early summer air, then warm metal on his cheek, the wet _crack_ on pavement, a small piece of clover.

He could hear tires squealing and someone screaming nearby.

He recalled a pair of red eyes staring down at him, not unkind or frightening. A mouth, asking questions Tino could not hear, falling in and out of darkness.

He saw Dr. Kohler's face through a crowd of people – wasn't he in Africa? Did Tino go to Africa? No, that wasn't possible.

He remembered being covered with a mask and everything falling still. He remembered feeling very cold.

His head hurt, scalding pain across his scalp and it was hot, like he was under too many blankets. His eyes burned, his nose hurt, his mouth, it felt hard to breathe. His chest, his sides, like a fire was roaring every time he put oxygen into his lungs. His one arm felt like he'd dipped it into a pot of boiling water up to his neck then left it in a bucket of ice. His hips were aching. His knees felt – _knees_.

His one leg felt heavy, aching, searing, but the other... he froze and concentrated on wiggling his toes. The fire in his lungs ignited with new-found rage as his breathing melted into a frenzied panic. The cardiac machine was screaming nearby.

He needed quiet. He needed to process. People chatting in the hall outside of his room were too loud, the birds outside the window were too loud, all of the machinery he was hooked up to was too loud. He tried to sit up, ripping at all the tubes and wires attached to him. The cardiac machine started calling flatline the moment he tore the sensors from his body. His throat felt like it was being ripped apart and he realized he was crying out.

Strong arms were suddenly pushing in to his shoulders. His vision filled with ocean blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and a scowl – his brain translated the expression into '_concerned_'.

He heard several people run into the room, but he also saw Berwald's lips moving, telling him to keep looking at him, so he did not look away. He let himself get lost in the blue, willing is breathing to slow, even out, ignoring everything else going on in the room. He kept staring, even when he felt someone take his arm and prick it. He was still concentrating on the blue as darkness fell over him and he passed into a dreamless sleep.

.

The room was quiet when Tino woke for the second time.

This time, waking up in a hospital bed did not come as a surprise to him. He blinked at the ceiling and focused on breathing evenly, calmly. He started to mentally assess himself, starting with his head.

He could feel the rough fabric of the bandage wound tightly around his crown, the dull ache over his ear alerting him to an injury there, likely some sort of laceration. He remembered hitting his head on the hood of a car and the sickening crunch as he fell against the pavement. A cut on his head was the least of his concerns and an injury that made sense. His face felt swollen, and he still could not open one eye fully, and it was difficult to breathe through his nose – this also made sense to him. He moved his tongue around in his mouth, all his teeth seemed to be present and accounted for. His right shoulder ached, his arm tightly bound and in a sling. His skin felt raw wherever it came into contact with his bedclothes or the blanket neatly tucked around him. His chest felt like it was on fire, his sides to his sternum roaring in pain with each breath. The more he thought about the pain when breathing, the more panicked he felt himself become, so he quickly moved on to the ache in his hips. His pelvis felt like there could be no possible position that would be comfortable, and he winced as he tried to wriggle himself, to test the range of movement. He quickly held still, regretting trying, and he had to take a minute to wait for the pain-induced nausea that washed over him to pass.

Finally, his right leg felt like it had been run over by a car and promptly lit on fire. He pursed his dry and cracking lips as he tried to identify the pain. Everything below his knee felt like it was stuffed with broken glass. He could not make sense of his left leg at all. He paused and thought a moment about wiggling his toes, the muscles in his right leg seeming to scream in protest as he did so, his left eliciting no response at all.

There was a sound at the door to his room and his eyes darted towards it. His pulse quickened as he locked eyes with Berwald, who looked startled to see him awake.

"Hey," he managed to say, his voice sounding rough and distant. Berwald blinked a few times and tried to smile, but only managing a grimace. Tino appreciated the effort. He lurched forward and crossed the room, moving around Tino's bed and dropping into the chair next to it. He reached out and took Tino's uninjured hand, bringing it to his lips in a soft kiss. His eyes were flashing with so many questions, Tino could hardly translate fast enough. He watched in patient silence as Berwald tried to compose his face into something Tino could understand. After several failed attempts, Berwald bowed his head in defeat and sighed heavily; when he looked back up at Tino, his eyes were red and watery.

"I think," Tino croaked, giving Berwald's hand a light squeeze, trying to convey that he did not need to say anything, whether it be with his voice or his eyes, "I think I am going to be in need of your professional services."

Berwald openly wept.

.

Peter did not see Dr. O for the next several days. Instead, Uncle Matthias was there. He had explained that Dr. O was very upset that Tino was in the hospital, that the two were very close, and he wanted to stay by his side until Tino eventually woke up. Peter said he understood, he knew Tino was Dr. O's 'wife' and Matthias laughed, ruffling his hair.

During the day on Saturday they played games at home, then went to a movie. Peter wondered when he'd get to see Dr. O again, but he knew he had to be patient.

On Monday, Uncle Matthias told Peter that Tino had finally woken up and this was very good news; however, Dr. O still did not come home. They worked on the puzzle with ships and watched documentaries about fish and whales and sharks on TV. They tried to make cookies, but they didn't turn out very well, so they went to the store and bought some, instead.

On Tuesday, Peter woke to find Dr. Bondevik in the kitchen making breakfast instead of Uncle Matthias.

"Good morning, Peter," he had tried to sound friendly, but Peter felt it was weird seeing the pediatrician without a lab coat and standing barefoot in his new kitchen.

"Where's Uncle Matt?"

Dr. Bondevik's mouth twitched in a sort of half-smile and he said, "he was called in to work early this morning."

"Oh."

They fell into silence and Dr. Bondevik readied a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast, handing it to Peter and shooing him towards the dining table.

Dr. Bondevik was not as fun as Uncle Matthias, but he had tried. He took Peter to the library in the morning to find some books to read, then they made cookies – that actually turned out. Peter did a lot of reading in the afternoon by himself because Dr. Bondevik had to sleep before his night shift; he slept in Dr. O's room. In the evening Uncle Matthias returned and Dr. Bondevik left for work.

On Thursday both Uncle Matthias and Dr. Bondevik were in the kitchen. Peter was quiet as he crept from his room and he saw them standing together by the fridge. Uncle Matthias had his arms loose around Dr. Bondevik's waist, his mouth was pressed against his forehead. Dr. Bondevik had his hands resting on his chest. They were quiet and unmoving, both of their eyes were closed. Peter wondered if he shouldn't be watching, but they didn't seem to be do anything gross, so he cleared his throat as he padded into the kitchen. Dr. Bondevik jumped and shoved Uncle Matthias away so hard he fell backwards into the counter, crying out an angry, '_hey_!' before bursting into laughter.

"Morning, kiddo," he rubbed his lower back, chuckling.

Dr. Bondevik offered Peter a plate with an open-faced sandwich on it, smoked salmon and cream cheese, with a side of sliced tomatoes, and followed him to the dining table with his cup of orange juice. Both doctors joined him at the table with their own breakfast and steaming mugs of coffee – Uncle Matthias dumped sugar and milk in his, and Dr. Bondevik drank his black.

"Berwald was asking after you last night," Dr. Bondevik said, spreading some butter on a piece of toast. Peter lit up and started wriggling in his chair.

"When is he coming home?"

"He said he wanted to come home this weekend. He is planning on returning to work on Monday." Peter slumped and frowned. He had hoped he'd get to spend some time with Dr. O at home like he had been with Uncle Matthias (and now Dr. Bondevik). He ate in silence.

When he was done his breakfast, he sat in his chair kicking his feet back and forth, chewing on his bottom lip. Uncle Matthias didn't seem to notice, his eyes were glued to the TV on the other side of the room. Dr. Bondevik, however, was watching him with a raised eyebrow over the rim of his mug.

"What is the matter?" He finally asked, setting his cup down and nudging Matthias.

"I was just thinking..." Peter said, pushing at his plate with his artificial limb, "maybe I should go back to school soon." He wasn't sure he was ready, but he was starting to feel like he couldn't stay at home every day, either. As much as he liked spending time with his new uncle and Dr. Bondevik – he was starting to wonder if Dr. Bondevik was Uncle Matthias' 'wife' like Tino was to Berwald, but he wasn't sure how to go about asking that sort of question.

Dr. Bondevik smiled, Uncle Matthias had turned his attention back to the TV after giving a non-committal approving noise, "that sounds like a really good idea, Peter." Dr. Bondevik said he would tell Berwald when he saw him at work and would call the school in his district to set it up. Peter nodded, he didn't really care about the details, he was too busy thinking about Matthias and the doctor and Tino.

"Is there something else on your mind?"

He couldn't hold it in, although he tried really hard, "are you Uncle Matthias' wife?"

The shade of red Dr. Bondevik turned was startling. Matthias tore his eyes away from the TV and stared at Peter, his mouth twitching, and Peter was suddenly afraid he was going to get yelled at. Then, Matthias threw his head back and laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Dr. Bondevik covered his mouth with one of his hands and glared at Matthias, his expression unreadable to Peter. Peter looked between the two, unsure of why his question had caused such a mixed reaction.

"Yeah!" Uncle Matthias settled enough to respond, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" Dr. Bondevik said darkly, lowering the hand from his face and clenching it into a fist. "I most certainly am _not_ your _wife_."

"Well, you should be."

An eerie silence descended upon the dining room and Peter felt like he ought to leave, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself, either. Both doctors were staring at each other with such intensity, he wondered if he could sneak away without either of them noticing. He started to slide off his chair when Dr. Bondevik said, "where do you think you're going?" without even turning to face him. Peter froze and looked to Uncle Matthias with pleading eyes.

"Go ahead, Peter," Matthias said, also not looking at him, but he was smiling. "You can go wash up."

Now Peter was confused. Should he listen to the pediatrician with the frightening expression currently on his face or his uncle? He made a weird nose in his throat, hoping someone would clarify.

The telephone rang and Peter jumped out of his seat crying out, "_I'll get it_!" He tore into the hall where the phone was and picked it up.

"Hello?" He said, peering around the corner a the two doctors still sitting and staring at each other in the dining room.

"Peter? Hello! This is Mrs. Perrin," Peter turned away from the adults and blinked.

"Hello, Mrs. Perrin," he wasn't sure he wanted to hear from her, his social worker. Whenever she was around something bad always seemed to happen. She asked Peter how he was doing and he answered that he was very well, thank you. "Is your foster father there? May I speak to him, please?"

"No, I am sorry, he is not home right now."

"What about Tino?"

"No, he's not here right now, either."

"Peter," she said, her voice concerned, "are there any adults with you?"

"Yes," he said, peering back around to look at Uncle Matthias and Dr. Bondevik in the dining room. Uncle Matt had reached out and was holding Dr. Bondevik's hand, whose face was a violent shade of red. "My Uncle Matthias is here." She asked to speak with him. He wanted to tell her that he seemed a little bit busy with Dr. Bondevik, but the tone in her voice made him keep his mouth shut. Instead he said, "okay," and hugged the receiver to his chest, tip-toeing back to the table.

"Uncle Matt? Mrs. Perrin is on the phone, she wants to speak with you." Matthias turned to face Peter, a confused expression on his face as he took the phone from Peter and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" He said, "Yes, I'm his uncle... No, his foster father is away right now... No, everything is fine. There was an accident..." Peter decided he didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation so excused himself and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he was done spitting he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Dr. Bondevik standing behind him in the mirror. He whirled around.

"I'm a _man_," was all he said before spinning on his heel and marching away. Peter heard the front door slam shut, and Matthias laughing before saying, "no, sorry Mrs. Perrin, what you said wasn't funny, I was laughing at something here... no, no, I am taking this seriously, I promise."

On Friday just Uncle Matthias was in the kitchen.

After breakfast he asked, "do you want to go to the hospital today to visit Berwald and Tino?" Peter nodded. He was starting to go crazy spending so much time in the small apartment and he missed Dr. O.

He brushed his teeth and stood in front of his closet and tried to decide what to wear. He never used to think about what he was going to wear, he never really had the chance, he'd never had so many options before. In the end he picked his old play sailor outfit.

It reminded him of the hospital and felt oddly appropriate.

While Uncle Matthias cleaned up the kitchen, Peter decided to draw Tino and Berwald a picture. He sat at the dining room table and tried to draw, it was a little more difficult now with only one arm, his paper kept slipping out from under his prosthetic hand. He drew himself and Dr. O standing outside of a hospital. Then, he drew Uncle Matthias and Dr. Bondevik on one side (Dr. Bondevik had a cross pin in his hair and his face was coloured red, because Peter thought it was pretty funny when he thought about Thursday morning). On the other side he tried to draw Tino, but he couldn't remember exactly how he looked, so it didn't turn out as good as Peter had hoped. He looked at his work for a bit before he hastily added Emil on the side – he had been pretty nice the day him and Uncle Matthias had gone shopping. Even if he did dress funny.

He gave everyone capes, because they were all supposed to be superheros, and then titled it 'My New Family' across the top.

Then, they drove to the hospital.

Peter held on to Uncle Matthias' hand while they walked through the halls towards Tino's room. It was weird not being in the Pediatric Ward, where things looked familiar and the staff seemed friendlier. Where the adults stayed felt so somber.

Mathias stopped at a door and looked down at Peter, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Ready?" he asked. Peter took a deep breath and nodded. Uncle Matthias pushed open the door.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

**Hey! Please review! I love you!**

**Reviewer Ivy:** I am glad that you are finding my fics helpful! If you ever need to talk, feel free to shoot me a message!

**Reviewer Ki: **PLEASE DO FANART. I WILL ADORE YOU FOREVER. Anyone, please, fanart! I need to see this in my life!

**Hypocritical Romantic: **You're awesome. I'm sorry you almost choked on your cucumber.

**All other reviewers, regular and new**, I write for you! I love you! Seriously, my face practically splits in half with happiness when I read your messages.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **So sorry this took so long!

Note on Peter: He is right handed; he lost his left arm.

Wanna see a picture of the drawing Peter did for Dr. O and Tino? The lovely Boffinness drew it! Find the link on my profile!

* * *

Peter ran up to Berwald and threw his arms around his neck the moment the door was opened wide enough for him to slip through. Berwald barely had a moment to ready himself, falling back into the chair behind him as the boy leapt into his arms. Tino laughed.

"Hi, Pet'r," Berwald murmured, ruffling the boy's hair and shooting a glace and Tino, who was covering his mouth with one hand, eyes sparkling with a mirth that Berwald had not seen in what felt like ages. He looked up and nodded at Matthias, who was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and an easy smile on his face. "Thank you, Matthias. For everything." The surgeon grinned and saluted, pushing himself up off the wall, sauntering further into the room.

"S'been my pleasure," he said, pulling up one of extra chairs and plopping himself into it. "Peter's a good kid, ain't that right, squirt?" Peter rolled his eyes.

"Dr. O," he said, "I drew you a picture!" He squirmed in Berwald's lap, turning himself so he was sitting properly, his small back pressed against his chest. He fished a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up so Berwald could see it over his shoulder. His chest tightened as he looked at the childish drawing, 'My New Family'. He hugged Peter tightly.

"I love it," he said quietly.

"May I see?" Tino reached out one of his hands and Peter passed the drawing to him. "This is very good," he said, smiling, "be sure to put it up where everyone can see it in your house!" Peter nodded happily, taking the drawing back and carefully refolding it.

"I will!" He promised.

They made light conversation for about half an hour before Tino started to nod off. Matthias stood and reached out for Peter's hand, "we should get going," he said and Peter slowly slid off Berwald's lap, his face downcast.

"I will be back home tomorrow," Berwald assured, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair again.

As soon as they had left, Berwald turned to Tino and brushed his hand along his cheek. Tino's eyes opened, focusing on Berwald and he smiled.

"I am glad that you got custody of him," Tino said, his voice quiet in the wake of his half-asleep state.

"Only because of you," Berwald muttered and Tino hummed, his eyes falling shut.

"I think he would have come to you no matter what. They would be stupid not to see that you make an excellent father."

"Not yet," Berwald sighed, removing his hand from Tino's face to run through his hair and rub his temples. "I haven't been home yet." As soon as the words had toppled out of his mouth he regretted saying them. It wasn't Tino's fault he hadn't been home, he didn't want him to feel guilty for it.

"You should be with him, Berwald. I am not going anywhere. He needs you."

"You need me."

"I'll be alright," Tino's eyes opened again, "this isn't going to take me down. But, _Peter_, he needs all of the help he can get." Tino reached out this time, his hand not quite able to reach Berwald's face, so he leaned down into the outstretched fingertips, sighing at their warmth against his cheek. "Thank you for being by my side," Tino said, straining his arm as far as he could so he could run his thumb along Berwald's cheekbone. How was it that Tino, the one who was laying in the hospital bed, could be the one that was the comfort? His words were always reassuring, ready to support those around him, assuring that he was alright and focusing instead on those around him, despite his own struggles.

Berwald didn't think he had slept a full night since he had received the phone call. Between the discomfort of the chair at Tino's side and worry for Tino and Peter, he did not find any time to relax. What little sleep he did happen to slip into was tormented by nightmares. He was thankful Matthias had taken care of Peter while he had been preoccupied with the love of his life laying bruised and broken in the hospital bed next to him. He felt guilty for what likely felt like Berwald abandoning the boy so shortly after his own trauma, but he could not bring himself to leave Tino's side.

Each day he would sit, eyes heavy with concern, as he watched Tino sleep, from the last light of the day until the hospital room was gray and dull in the early morning light; he would not look away. He would watch his chest evenly rise and fall, his face relaxed and pain-free. He could not help but stare, to reassure himself that Tino was _alive_.

Dr. Bondevik had been the first to visit, silently appearing in the doorway very early in the morning, only hours after Matthias had taken Peter home. He didn't say anything, just watched Berwald, eyes flickering to Tino's form. He silently disappeared again, periodically coming to check on the two of them throughout the week when no one else was around, sometimes coffee or a small offerings of food in hand.

Laura and several other of the nurses from the Pediatric Ward had stopped in to drop off flowers and cards. While Tino was asleep they would question Berwald about his condition, how was he handling his injuries, did he think Tino was going to be alright? While Tino was awake, they were cheery and loud, wishing him a full and speedy recovery. Berwald could not help but flinch, even though they meant well, Tino would never really make a _full_ recovery.

Matthias stopped in on Tuesday before his first shift back to work in the hospital as an on-call doctor, finally returning to his home hospital after a 4 year stint in Africa. He was booked for surgeries all morning, but promised to stop in again before he went home in the afternoon.

Tino was quick to point out that something was wrong between Matthias and Lukas.

"They seemed really close for a little while," he had mused, "but, they never come to visit together. Have you noticed that, Ber?" Berwald hadn't noticed. Matthias had always chased after the Pediatrician, but his advances had always gone ignored, at least, that's what he thought. "I suppose I have a better picture since I saw their dynamic before Dr. Kohler left for Zambia," Tino said thoughtfully, "he broke down Dr. Bondevik's walls. He looks a lot happier now that Dr. Kohler is back." Berwald blinked at that, he couldn't differentiate between one of Dr. Bondevik's passive expressions to the next. He supposed he should, considering his own lack of emotional countenance. Then again, Tino was very good at reading people, better than most.

The Beilschmidt paramedic brothers had come to visit Tino, a bouquet of cheery blue cornflowers in hand. Berwald had made the mistake of asking for details of the accident. He had to shut himself in the bathroom after a stiff, polite excuse to leave the room in order to compose himself. He realized too late that he did not want to hear about the amounts of blood pooling on the sidewalk under Tino's form, or how bad his leg had looked at the scene before Tino had been stabilized. He did not want to hear that Gilbert had thought he wouldn't survive, but Ludwig had suggested that there was still a chance – they didn't know the state of his internal injuries and couldn't know until he was back in the hospital. Berwald did not want to hear that Tino was lucky there was a witness nearby, otherwise he would have surely died alone on the pavement, the sun painting the sky in a glorious sunset overhead.

Then came the strange, quiet, aristocratic man that had witnessed Tino's accident to visit one morning while Tino slept. He had introduced himself as Roderich; he removed a supple suede glove to warmly take Berwald's hand in a polite greeting. His eyes flickered to Tino, his face immediately crumpling in emotion. His pale complexion and dark chestnut hair made him look almost otherworldly in the fluorescent lighting of the hospital room, his eyes watery with unshed emotion at the sight of Tino.

"I apologize," he had said, hiding his mouth behind his shaking, gloved hand, "I just..." he was unable to say anything more and simply stood, quivering and staring at Tino.

Tino's eyes fluttered open, coming first to focus on Berwald, his mouth stretching into a small smile, then to the stranger hovering at the foot of his bed.

"This is Roderich," Berwald explained, squeezing Tino's hand, "he was there when you-" his voice cracked and he paused to swallow the lump rising in his throat.

"I called the ambulance," Roderich finished, moving to stand on the opposite side of the bed. Berwald rose to his feet then, deciding to let the two speak in private. He left the room and wandered to the hospital cafeteria in search of his next bland, overpriced meal.

Tino had been filled only with concern after Roderich had left.

"I hope he will be okay," he had sighed, his voice weak from fatigue, "he is quite shaken by this whole ordeal." Berwald could only shake his head. Tino was the most perfect person he knew, and his heart swelled as he held his hand, listening intently as he voiced his concerns for the stranger while laying in a hospital bed, barely even beginning to recover from his own injuries.

Matthias brought Peter to visit at the end of the week; Berwald was thankful Peter had stayed away until Tino had time to recover more. Tino always had on a cheerful face when visitors arrived, but as soon as him and Berwald were alone again, he would relax into whatever emotion he was truly experiencing on the inside. His skin was ashen and drawn the first few days and he spent many hours contorted in discomfort and pain as his medications began to wear off. He wrestled with his emotions throughout the day: one moment his regular, cheery self, the next dissolving into panicked tears as the weight of his injuries sank in. He would lapse into long periods of silence as he seemed to contemplate how his life had drastically changed in such a short amount of time. When Tino would finally be discharged, nothing would be how he remembered it. Berwald felt helpless, there was nothing he could do to help Tino through his mental healing process aside from sitting quiet, holding his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze when Tino seemed to get lost in himself.

.

It was comforting to return to the familiarity of home. The feeling of the key in his hand as he unlocked his door, the way everything looked just as he remembered it, the smells. Berwald immediately felt himself relax the moment his front door closed shut behind him. Even seeing Peter standing wide-eyed and curious in his kitchen, a fairly new addition to his house, felt normal in comparison to the week he had living in the hospital. The picture Peter had drawn was taped to the fridge in the kitchen. Berwald liked how it looked there, it immediately made his house feel more like a home.

"I'm glad you're finally home, Dr. O," Peter said quietly, shuffling one of his feet on the floor and looking down. His voice was quiet and unsure and Berwald reached out for him, pulling him into a warm hug, ruffling the top of his head.

"Me too, Pet'r." He thought for a moment then pulled Peter away, still holding on to his shoulders. He bent at the waist so they were eye level and said, "you don't have to call me 'Dr. O' all of th'time. Berwald s'fine, or whatever you are comfortable with callin' me."

Peter seemed to consider this for a while, tapping one of his fingers to his bottom lip as he thought about this, "Berwald," he said, testing how the word sounded on his lips. "Berwald!" he cried again, a smile stretching wide on his mouth. He nodded happily and grinned.

That night, Berwald slid into his bed and allowed himself be buried by his sheets, blankets, and pillows, appreciating the scent of freshly washed linens. He drifted into the first comfortable, dreamless sleep in a week. He awoke feeling refreshed and almost able to forget the hellish week he had lived through, like everything was falling back into a familiar pattern. He could not wait to return to work, for normal routine and familiar activities. He tried not to think about what the office would feel like without Tino sitting at the front desk...

Saturday morning was quite pleasant. Berwald was pleased with the ability to have a hot shower with real soap and without rushing. He took his time getting ready, savoring every simple, median act. He was excited to put on clean clothes and hugged his arms around his middle for a moment after slipping into a soft, navy t-shirt. It did not have the stench of hospital clinging to it. He shuffled out into the kitchen and found Peter sitting at the dining room table, feet kicking back and forth under his chair as he drew pictures of tropical fish, copying from a library book open in front of him.

"Good morning, Berwald!" He smiled, pausing in his art as Berwald opened the fridge and stared at the meager contents inside. He needed to go grocery shopping. He found enough eggs to scramble for both of them then quietly suggested going to the store; Peter responded eagerly, jumping from the table and running to his room to get dressed while Berwald tidied up.

At the grocery store Berwald let Peter help him decide what fruit to get, which cereal, he asked him if he wanted juice, what were some things he'd like for dinner. He was determined to make up for being away for a week right after Peter came to live with him; he let him loose in the candy aisle saying he could pick one treat, much to Peter's delight.

On the way home he struggled to find things to talk about – Berwald wasn't a naturally chatty person and he was used to being able to communicate silently with Tino. Peter seemed a sociable sort, but wasn't sure how much he was allowed to say. They were both so lost in how to behave with one another, Berwald could practically slice the tension between them with a butter knife.

"D'you want to watch a movie when we get home?" he asked, glancing over at Peter who was staring out the window. He turned to look at Berwald and grinned, nodding his head.

"Can we make popcorn, too?" he asked, smile widening when Berwald nodded.

Berwald wasn't sure why he had assumed life would transition into ease as soon as he got home. He knew suddenly being responsible for a child would be a lot of work, especially when they had recently suffered through a series of traumatic events; however, he had daydreamed simple, day-to-day life, minor issues like childish behavior when Peter wouldn't want to go to school in the morning, struggling with homework, a messy bedroom. He neglected to think about the repercussions of Peter's recent history and how he would react to it. He assumed, since Peter and him had already established a positive bond, everything would be just fine. He thought his stable house would provide Peter with the normalcy he needed in order to transition back into a quiet lifestyle.

The first crack in his mental image came after Peter decided on what movie to watch ("The Incredibles!") and had skipped to the kitchen in order to start making popcorn. Berwald had gone to the linen closet to find fluffy blankets (and a book from his bedroom to read when he got bored of the movie); he returned to the living room and glanced over in the kitchen to Peter who was struggling to get the package of microwave popcorn out of its plastic wrap. He had it jammed under his prosthesis and was trying to tear it open with his good hand, but couldn't find enough purchase in order to get it open.

Berwald quietly entered the kitchen and reached for the popcorn, intending on helping Peter open it, when Peter jerked away from him, his face flushed and angry.

"I can do it by _myself_!" His tone was loud, hurt, and there were tears shining in the corners of his eyes. Berwald raised his hands in surrender and took a step back, observing as Peter tried to open the popcorn but still did not succeed. He attempted with his teeth, gnawing at the plastic and making frustrated noises, before finally giving up, hanging his head and holding it out for Berwald to open.

He took it, tore the plastic apart and handed it back to Peter to put in the microwave.

They watched the movie in silence; Berwald spent more time regarding Peter than paying attention to the movie, his book untouched on the coffee table. Peter snuggled into the extra blankets, eyes never leaving the screen, bowl of popcorn on his lap. The discontented expression never fully left his face.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon Berwald watched Peter as he struggled with regular activities. Putting the DVD back into its case, colouring at the kitchen table, tidying up and setting the table for dinner, brushing his teeth, changing into his pajamas. Everything took him twice as long to complete, sometimes longer, and everything would take several attempts before he got it right. He did not use his prosthetic arm at all, except to hold down the paper he was drawing on. He seemed to ignore that there was some help on the left side of his body, Berwald had specifically designed the hand so that it could be used to grasp or hold things steady, like balancing plates in his arms as Peter walked between the kitchen and the dining room, carrying everything in his right arm.

With a furrowed brow he decided to reschedule Peter's appointment to see Dr. VonBock as soon as he got into work on Monday. He had fallen behind in his rehabilitation, and the more Berwald watched, the more he started to realize that Peter was almost completely ignoring the fact that he had a left side of his body at all.

Come Sunday morning, Peter was not his usual, sunny self and Berwald was starting to flounder in what he should do.

"Wanna go t'the zoo today?" he heard himself ask while Peter pushed his scrambled eggs around the plate with his fork. He looked up and smiled at that, a wave of relief washing into Berwald that he had suggested the right thing.

"Yeah!" Peter cried, bouncing in his seat.

And so, as soon as breakfast was finished and the kitchen tidied, Berwald made sandwiches for lunch, packed some bottles of water, granola bars, and a couple apples into a cooler and he and Peter were off.

Berwald tried his hardest to have a fun day with Peter, grasping at anything to ensure he enjoyed himself and they could begin to bond as more than doctor and patient. Peter seemed to be happy when they first arrived to the zoo, excitedly running through the insect and reptile exhibit; however, by the time they reached African Savannah he had started to withdraw, less excited by the animals and easily frustrated by little things. With each hour that went by, the angrier Peter seemed to get and Berwald could not understand why.

Berwald decided to call it a day when Peter broke down into tears while watching the monkeys groom each other. He took Peter's hand and steered him through the crowds towards the zoo exit.

"What's th'matter?" he had asked, Peter just shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, allowing Berwald to pull him along. "Is it school tomorrow?" Berwald prompted. Peter shook his head again.

"No," he said, "I_ want _to go!" The conversation dropped off after that and they drove home in silence, skipping the gift shop where Berwald had planned to buy him a toy.

.

Berwald knew that Tino was still in the hospital and that he would not be at work, but it was still a shock when he entered the office and he wasn't sitting at his desk.

Emil Bondevik had taken temporary leave of his job in the hospital and graciously taken over for Tino while he was away. He knew all this before he stepped through the door, but it still startled him to see the shock of silvery blonde hair and the cold stare that greeted him as he walked in.

"Good morning, Dr. O, welcome back," he said flatly before turning his attention back down to his computer. He was good at his job, but he was not as warm and welcoming as Tino. Berwald excused himself to the confines his office and half expected Tino to show up, coffee in hand and offered with a bright grin. Nobody brought him coffee that morning.

Emil had made sure that Berwald's schedule was free of any new appointments, and what clients he did see were long-time patients and quick follow-up visits, only. At first, Berwald had been upset that he had such little work to distract him, then he was thankful Emil had the foresight. He struggled to concentrate on what menial paperwork he had on his desk. At some point in the mid-morning there was a light tapping on the door then a pause before it opened and Emil's head appeared, "there's a patient here that is asking to see you," he sighed, "I told him that you're not seeing patients today, but he's insisting." Berwald raised an eyebrow. "His name is Mr. Daniels...?" Berwald nodded and put his pen down, waving that it was fine to show the man in. Mr. Daniels gave Emil a cautious look as he passed him, his limp significantly decreased in comparison to the last time he had visited the office; Emil glared then shut the door as he left.

"Dr. O!" Mr. Daniels said, sitting in the chair opposite to him, Berwald smiled.

"Mr. Daniels, it is good to see you. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I came in pick up my stump socks," he jerked his thumb towards the door, "who is the new receptionist? Where is Tino?" Berwald sighed, dropping his forehead into his hand as he considered what to say, he heard Mr. Daniels lean forward in his chair.

"Ah, there was n'accident-" he barely got the words out of his mouth and past the lump in his throat before the emotion took him over, the week catching up with him all of a sudden. He wondered if he should be embarrassed that he was losing his cool in front of a near stranger, a client, but he couldn't find the strength to care as he dissolved into a blubbering fool, burying his head in his hands after knocking his glasses to the desk, his shoulders shaking, each breath a struggle to get past the heaving in his chest.

"Dr. O – _Berwald_!" Mr. Daniels stood and came around to his side of the desk, dropping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. Berwald took a few minutes to compose himself enough to look up through blurred eyes and give Mr. Daniels a watery smile.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Daniels, it's been a long week. Tino's alive, he just-" the emotion threatened to boil over again. Mr. Daniels's shook his head.

"Please, call me John. I am sorry for asking, I hope that nothing is too serious...?"

"He.." Berwald wiped at his eyes and replaced his glasses, taking several deep breaths. "He was hit by a car last week. He has several severe injuries, but he'll recover," mostly. John nodded, moving to sit back down in his seat. "He ended up having one of his legs amputated," Berwald sighed the words out, his throat and eyes burning as he reined in his emotion, it was the first time he had said the words aloud. It felt strange to finally acknowledge what had happened. John's eyes widened and he stretched a hand across the desk, palm up in an invitation for comfort.

"I am very sorry to hear that, Berwald," he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. "How is he doing? I'd ask how you are coping, but the answer seems fairly evident."

"He's coping well," Berwald hummed in thought. "He's hopin' to be discharged next week." John gave a low whistle.

"What a trooper. Is there anything I can do for him?"

"Thank you, Mr. Daniels – John," Berwald tried to smile again, "I don't think-" there was a knock at the door and Emil's head appeared.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Doctor, there's an urgent phone call for you on line two," Berwald nodded, "it's from the school." he said before disappearing and closing the door again. John raised an eyebrow and reached forward to clasp Berwald's hand in a warm handshake.

"I'll take my leave. Let me know if Tino needs anything." Berwald thanked him, waiting until he was alone before he picked up the phone.

"This is Dr. Oxenstierna," he said.

.

Berwald's heart was hammering in his chest the entire way to the school. He had wondered if it was a good idea for Peter to return so soon, but he had insisted. He half ran to the office, panting by the time he skidded to a half in the doorway, Peter sitting in one of the chairs looking forlorn scuffing his shoes on the linoleum under his feet. The receptionist waved him further into the office, insisting that the principal wanted to speak with him before he took Peter home.

The principal, Ms. Hedervary, was a well dressed woman in a dark pantsuit, her long auburn hair worn in loose curls, hanging down past her shoulders. She had a stern expression on her face, one that made even Berwald nervous as he lowered himself into the seat opposite to her.

She kept the conversation short, acknowledging that she was aware that Berwald was his new foster father. She noted that she was also aware of his social history and recent trauma.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Oxenstierna," she said, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her, "I don't think Peter is ready to return to school just yet." Berwald nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "He had a blowout in the classroom today," she explained, "he has been through a lot, I think returning to school now is too much change all at once."

"I know," he sighed, "he was so eager to come back."

"I imagine he was," she said, "but, as the adult, you have to recognize when he may not be right. He needs some time to settle into his home life, first. In regards to his disability," Berwald flinched. He did not like that word when spoken about his foster son. "Does he have a professional he sees in order to help him cope with that?"

"He has seen a psychiatrist."

"I suggest he sees them again," she said. It was not a suggestion, Berwald nodded. She explained in detail how Peter had behaved during the morning in class, how exactly he had been disruptive, eventually becoming emotionally unstable. His teacher had to physically restrain him in order to calm him down enough to be coaxed to go to the office and call Berwald at work. Berwald hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Peter said nothing while the two walked to the car.

In the car, the silence still was not broken. Berwald gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, composing his thoughts before he turned on the car and drove them both home.

"You should've told me you weren't ready to go back t'school. I wouldn't have been angry." Peter said nothing in response, only staring out the passenger window. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me, Pet'r." Berwald glanced over at the boy, at a loss as to how he should handle the situation. "Have you seen Dr. Kirkland recently?" He hated having to ask, he should know. But, he wasn't sure if his previous foster parents had been keen on keeping his appointments and he had not given Matthias any instruction on what to do with Peter for the week he was not at home. Peter still said nothing, but he offered a shrug. Berwald took that to mean, 'no' and he heaved a sigh.

He said nothing else on the matter, simply reaching for his cellphone and he scrolled through the contacts until he found the doctor's name.

"Stay in the car," he said, exiting the vehicle and walking far enough away that Peter would not be able to overhear, but close enough to keep on him and make sure he didn't take off.

"Dr. Kirkland's office," came the cheery voice on the other end of the line.

Berwald explained who he was and his connection to Peter, one of their patients. He briefly told the receptionist of the situation and his desire to book an appointment.

"Can you hold for a moment?" He grunted a yes, "thank you." He tapped his foot to the jazz hold music, glancing back at his car and watching Peter as he traced patterns on the window with his right hand.

"Thank you for holding," the voice returned, "Mr. Oxenstierna, would you be able to make it to an appointment tomorrow afternoon?"

"That'd be lovely," he arranged the time with the receptionist before ending the call and returning to the car and Peter.

* * *

**AN2:** Fluff and happiness is en route! I promise!

The blue cornflower is/was a national symbol for Germany.


	9. Chapter 9

Berwald crossed his legs and leaned back into the overstuffed waiting room sofa, reaching for a magazine and absently flipping through it. He heaved a sigh and tried not to feel bored while he waited for Peter to finish his appointment with Dr. Kirkland. He glanced at his watch, nearly 40 minutes had already gone by.

He discarded the magazine and sat up straight when the door to Dr. Kirkland's office finally opened, Peter shuffled out. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were red and puffy and his nose was running. Berwald rose to his feet as Dr. Kirkland exited the office behind Peter. He was a kind looking man. He had sandy brown hair and heavy eyebrows atop gleaming hazel eyes. There was a light dusting of freckles across his nose, and his mouth was turned into a pleasant, polite smile as he reached out to shake Berwald's hand, adjusting his argyle sweater vest with his other hand.

"Mr. Oxenstierna, may I speak with you a moment?" His voice was pleasant, weighted with the trace remnants of a Yorkshire accent. Berwald nodded and glanced back at Peter who threw himself onto the couch and buried his face in the crooks of his elbows. He followed Dr. Kirkland back into his office and sat in the chair opposite an ornate, cherry desk. Dr. Kirkland sat in his large, leather chair and slipped on a pair of glasses, taking up a large folder and glancing down at it before flicking his eyes back up to meet Berwald's.

"Peter is a very special boy," he started and Berwald nodded, "you are more aware than anyone the levels of physical and emotional trauma he has endured even in the last handful of months, and likely years." Berwald nodded again and suddenly felt nervous, like he was a boy being scolded in the principal's office. "It would be in his best interest to stay in one home for an extended period of time. I realize this is not entirely up to you, but if you are not up to the challenge of helping Peter during this difficult time, then I would advise you to let his social worker know immediately and have it arranged for him to be in a home environment that can help him."

"I want t'help him," he choked out, forcing himself to find his voice. Dr. Kirkland nodded.

"That's fantastic to hear. Now, let's get down to business. I think we should go over a strategy plan in order to help you with Peter for the next several weeks." He continued to very briefly discuss some of his impressions in regards to Peter's current emotional state and how Berwald might be able to help support him. "His whole life has suddenly changed. He is very good at putting up walls and making it look like he is fine with how things are, but you need to remember," Dr. Kirkland removed his glasses and held Berwald's gaze, "he was ripped out of the only home he knew. It may not have been a healthy environment, but it was home for his entire life. He lost a limb, something that is a deeply emotional event. Now he's living with a stranger who left him in the hands of another stranger for an entire week." Dr. Kirkland raised an eyebrow, but did not press that specific issue; Berwald sank into his chair, his cheeks heating up. "I understand your partner recently experienced a similar trauma?" he asked. Berwald nodded and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, blinking to keep his own emotions in check. "First, I think it would be important for Peter be included in decision making within the household in order to let him know that he's in control of his life. You need to establish that he is in control of some things so he can start to repair his self-esteem. And finally, Mr. Oxenstierna," Berwald returned his gaze to meet the doctor opposite to him. "I think you should bring Peter back for regular visits. Once a week so I can follow his progress, then we can decrease visits as he improves. I also think that you should schedule an appointment for yourself."

"Pardon?"

"Mr. Oxenstierna, it would benefit Peter to see that seeking help is not a bad thing, that it is normal to reach out for assistance when you need it."

"I don't..." Berwald wasn't sure what the doctor was suggesting. He felt his expression turn from neutral to puzzled to bordering on frustration.

"Mr. Oxenstierna, may I call you Berwald?" He nodded curtly, "Berwald, then. Your partner recently had a near-death experience, you then dropped everything to be with him for the last week. You recently took on the very large responsibility of being the foster parent to a troubled child. Your own world has spun out of control, Berwald, how are you coping with that?"

"I'm doin' just fine," he said, glaring at the doctor. He didn't need to see a psychiatrist. He was upset, yes, but he didn't need to lay on a sofa and discuss his feelings to a stranger. Dr. Kirkland smiled kindly, annoyingly knowingly, at him.

"If you do not think you have anything to talk about, then at least schedule an appointment for Peter's sake, so he can see that it's a normal thing. Do it for Peter, and we can talk about where to go from there during your visit." Berwald thought for a moment, heaved a sigh, and nodded. "Wonderful, you can make the arrangements with my secretary," he stood and extended his hand to take Berwald's warmly. "I will see you _both_ in one week, yes?"

"Yes, thank you, doctor."

.

The day of Tino's discharge could not come soon enough. It was terrible being stuck in a single room day in and day out. The most excitement he got during the day was when he was wheeled to the rehabilitation room and strapped into a pneumatic post-amputation mobility aid leg and trapped between two parallel bars. He would work until he could no longer stand and collapsed either in success or tearful frustration.

He was thankful Berwald stayed by his side, there was someone to talk to during the day; he only ever left the room to find something to eat or shower or change into the fresh clothes Dr. Kohler brought him. Berwald didn't say much and looked perpetually concerned, which started to grate on Tino's nerves. He was having a hard enough time handling his own influx of emotions and grief, he couldn't bear to be responsible for Berwald's own distress. He did his best to put on a cheerful face whenever someone came to visit, and for the most part, he thought he did a pretty good job of it. Of course, on the inside, he was turbulent. How could he not be? A piece of him was literally missing. His quality of life had just – _no_, he refused to slip into that train of thought. He shook his head firmly, readjusting his thoughts. He would not let this take him down. This was only a hurdle he'd have to learn to leap over. And he would.

He tried not to think about what it was going to be like when he returned to his solitary, quiet home. He lived in an old apartment with no elevator. The layout was awkward, it was split level in some places, and the hall out of his front door was warped and uneven with age. He had always thought of his home as cute, unique, cozy... now he was anticipating nothing but frustration and exhaustion just trying to get from the lobby to his unit. He didn't want to live alone anymore. What happened if he fell over in the shower? He had already found ways to get stuck in the small shower in his hospital room, slipping from his imbalanced stance, forgetting that when his leg got tired he couldn't simply rely on his other. That's when the frustration would set in, tearing him up from the inside out with no way to soothe it. He tried not to cry, sitting on the shower floor, forgetting about the soap in his unevenly cropped hair as it slid to his eyes, stinging them and only furthering his sorrow. He would stay like that until there was a soft knock on the door, Berwald checking in on him. He'd force a happy tone in his voice, calling that he was just enjoying the water, then he'd pick himself up off the ground and pull himself together. _He could do this._

When Berwald went home to be with Peter it had been so lonely. He never knew the meaning of boredom until then. His doctors refused to let him leave, no matter how much he begged, especially when a low fever spiked overnight a handful of times, his body adjusting, healing. The nurses in his department would creep into his room and watch him with wide eyes, careful not to talk about the fact that he was missing a leg. Dr. Braginsky, his orthopedic surgeon, was the only one who was consistently straight with him. He smiled readily, although still had a scary countenance, and spoke softly about what Tino could expect day-to-day, in the next few months, years, the rest of his life.

He had been mildly surprised when Berwald walked into the room hand-in-hand with Peter a few days before his doctors said he was going to be discharged – _finally_. They chatted happily for a while before Berwald cleared his throat and Peter climbed up onto the bed next to Tino and bounced happily.

"Tino, Tino!" he said, his enthusiasm was infectious, Tino felt himself split into a wide, excited grin in response.

"What, Peter?"

"Berwald and I were talking and together we decided something important!" Tino nodded for him to continue, reaching out to grab his arm before he bounced right off the side of the bed. "You will come live with us when you are discharged!" Tino blinked and looked to Berwald, his mouth dropping open. Berwald's cheeks were deeply coloured and he cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"If y'want to, that is," he clarified slowly, Tino's heart started hammering in his chest.

"Of course you'll want to," Peter was saying and Tino forced himself to drag his attention back to the bouncing boy on the bed next to him, "because then we can look after you and I know all about life with a missing limb now," he pointed to his arm, "so I can help you! We can be a team! Like superheroes!" His eyes lit up and he whipped around to look imploringly at Berwald, "you _have_ to make him a leg to match my arm!" he practically screamed this, and Berwald blinked before looking awkward, quietly trying to convince the boy to calm down.

Did he want to live with them? Tino felt this should be a monumental decision, that he should take the time to think about it more clearly, but he heard himself blurt out, "yes!" before he'd even finished processing the weight of the question. He and Berwald had only just started dating – his world was upside-down, Peter was, well, Peter... everything to do with Peter. Was it a good idea? "I would like that very much," he heard himself say. He didn't want to be alone, but would it work out? The three of them in Berwald's small, tidy, plain apartment?

.

Tino knew he should feel a whole lot more than simply nervous as the car rolled to a stop outside of Berwald's apartment. His life had been flipped and thrown off its axis, and the most predominant emotion was butterflies in his stomach and a quickened heart rate. The thought of sharing a living space with his boss, Dr. O, Berwald, his _boyfriend_ had his palms breaking out into a nervous-excited sweat. And Berwald's foster-son... the one whose paperwork said Tino was Berwald's partner for more than 5 years. That made Tino Peter's foster father as well. Joined custody. He was about to move in with his significant other for the first time and become a parent all at once. Never mind the nerves of overcoming a new disability – that was actually the furthest thing from Tino's mind as Berwald parked the car and clicked open his seat belt.

"You alright, T'no?" Berwald reached over to touch his knee, hesitating, his hand coming up short about a millimeter away from actual physical contact. Tino clutched at his chest in hopes of slowing the racing rhythm of his heart. He offered a weak smile, his stomach flipping over the moment his eyes locked onto Berwald's.

Dear God and all that was holy, he was so very handsome and lovely and he was all Tino's. He could just lean over and kiss him if he wanted to,and he so dearly wanted to, but he didn't because – because –

Tino gasped, unaware that he had been holding his breather. "Oh, yes," he breathed out. Berwald's eyebrows drew together asking, '_are you sure_?' Tino firmly nodded, "I'm alright." The doctor searched Tino's eyes for the briefest of moments before seeming satisfied with the response; he stepped out of the car and moved around to Tino's side in order to help him. Tino followed him with his eyes, drinking in how he moved. The way his hair fell into his eyes (he needed a haircut, soon) and how he breathed and how he reached forward to open the car door, his lips set in a determined line. His blue eyes flashed in the evening sunlight.

Berwald held a steadying hand out for Tino, an offering for assistance while Tino extracted himself from the car. Tino took it gratefully, chest fluttering at its warmth. He hauled himself out of the car, wavering at the sudden change in positions. Despite many rehabilitation hours under his belt, it still felt strange to him to feel one foot steady on solid ground, and the rest of his weight disappearing under his knee on his other leg. The pressure was uncomfortable most days, his leg still tender where it suddenly came to an end. He constantly felt the need to roll his foot and stretch his calf out and ease the discomfort, his heart throbbing into his throat when he reached down to rub his shin and was met with either dead air or hard plastic. There was an awkward weight and pull when he walked.

"Good?" Berwald asked, making sure he was standing steadily by himself. Tino nodded and smiled, Berwald left him to grab his bags from the trunk.

Tino hadn't had a chance to go back to his own home since being discharged – he wasn't sure he wanted to, to be honest. He wondered how it would feel to be surrounded by the familiarity of things from before the accident. It felt like the memories would be too painful to face right now; he didn't want to look at pictures of him smiling with friends, running down the beach or squatting on the floor, lap filled with chocolate lab puppies. There was an entire lifetime of two legs on his walls, and he was eager to start happy memories with... well, now that things had changed. He would go back again sometime. He'd need to pack and clean and prepare the space for the next tenant at some point.

Of all people, it had been Dr. Bondevik to offer to go to Tino's apartment and pack things he would immediately need to move in with Berwald.

"I'll leave Matthias at home," he quietly assured, "I won't snoop. Just make a list of things and where I can find them and I'll pack them." Tino had been so touched by the unexpected act of kindness – not that Dr. Bondevik was ever unkind, he was just so distant. "You may as well call me by my first name, as well," a very small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Surely we are beyond such formalities, now." Tino nodded and grinned.

He desperately tried to remember the state of his apartment before the accident and hoped he had cleaned it. Lukas never said anything about it, so he was left only to his imagination.

Very slowly he and Berwald made their way up to the apartment, through the lobby, into the elevator, and finally to the floor of his new home. Berwald held Tino's bags in one hand, the other hovering just out of touch near Tino's elbow, ready to steady in him case he wavered in his steps.

"Is Peter home?" Tino asked, watching as Berwald unlocked the door. Tino tried to focus on his emotional state and not notice how nice Berwald's ass looked in those jeans. The door swung inwards and Berwald stepped aside, turning to face Tino, waiting for him to enter first.

"No," he said, shutting the door behind them. "Matthias took him out for a bit – they should be home soon, though."

Suddenly Tino felt very unsure of himself, standing in the middle of Berwald's kitchen, alone with him for the first time in – he couldn't remember how long. The hospital didn't count, they were just a patient and the companion, there. Here... here they were Tino and Berwald. Receptionist and boss. Significant others...

Berwald seemed to be just as awkward, he was rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor. He recovered first, suddenly looking determined, and he crossed the room in two swift strides, standing in front of Tino and reaching a hand out to cup his face.

"Tino," he said, enunciating his name very carefully, Tino leaned into the touch and raised one of his hands to press in the centre of his broad chest, feeling his heart hammering through his shirt. He was relieved to feel that his was not the only one pumping hard and fast. "You – you are..." he tried to find the words, his eyes only giving away fragmented clues as to what he was trying to say. He looked relieved, concerned, a hint of confusion, a little bit apprehensive, and _frightened_, of all things. His eyes lowered to stare at Tino's lips and he noticed his adam's apple bob as he wavered – was he going to kiss Tino? He hoped he would, he longed for the physical affection, the connection, for something to make him feel normal again.

He might have, too, had the front door not burst open.

"Welcome home, Tino!" Dr. Kohler and Peter blew into the room, holding balloons and flowers and, in Dr. Kohler's hands, a bottle of wine. Lukas trailed in after them, rolling his eyes, also holding a bottle, his brother not far behind. Tino glanced at Berwald – he did not look surprised to see them, but he also didn't look thrilled at their timing – then to the small crowd of people filtering into the small kitchen.

"We're going to watch a movie!" Peter cried happily, bouncing up to Peter and handing him several helium balloons with everything from 'get well soon', 'welcome home', 'it's a boy', and 'happy birthday' written on them in cheerful colours. Tino laughed as he looked at the mismatched sentiments. "We got them all because I liked them!" Peter explained, Dr. Kohler chuckled nervously while handing a credit card back to Berwald – who was frowning deeply.

"What movie are we going to watch, hm?" Tino bent down so he could be closer to his eye level.

"Finding Nemo!"

And so, the six of them made their way to the living room after Peter insisted they make popcorn. Lukas produced a cake and served it into even slices, Dr. Kohler poured hearty amounts of wine into glasses (juice for Peter) for everyone, Berwald set up the movie with Peter bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

"To Tino's discharge!" Dr. Kohler raised his nearly overflowing glass of wine and everyone paused in what they were doing to listen, "to Peter being the adorable little shit that he is," he winked, "to homecomings and to love!"

"Gross," Emil added while everyone else raised their glasses in a toast.

Berwald settled into his armchair, Tino sat on one end of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him and resting on the coffee table. Beside him Peter gave a running commentary of the movie, reciting lines along with his favourite characters. Lukas sat beside Peter, half in Dr. Kohler's lap who had his arms snug around the Pediatrician, his chin resting on the top of his head. Emil sprawled on the floor in a sea of pillows and blankets, his own bowl of popcorn close by.

Tino felt his chest swell as he looked around at all the people in the room with him. _His support network_. None of them were expected, he never would have thought _these_ would be the people closest to him after suffering trauma. He didn't mind, though. He felt like this was the beginning of a strange family and it made him smile.

"What?" Peter was looking up at him, eyes large and wondering.

"Nothing," Tino wrapped his arm around the boy and turned back to the TV, "I'm just enjoying the evening."

* * *

**AN: **Please note that Tino had spare keys to Berwald's apartment, so he would be familiar with it. :)

Oddly, the opening scene of this chapter was originally supposed to be the end of the last... but then I got too frustrated to keep writing haha

Thank yooou **Boffinness**, **Hypocritical** **Romantic**, **The Ex**-**Frenchie** and everyone else who has left me such lovely comments and messages! Your support makes my world go 'round!

PS you do not even want to know how long I studied different accents from Great Britain just to be able to stick one to Arthur that I felt suited his character for this story (including thinking of his backstory and etc). Perhaps I chose one that doesn't fit your headcanons but HAH, this is my story! Mwahaha

**Review?** 0:) :) :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Dr. O**

**Chapter 10**

* * *

Berwald and Dr. Kirkland stared evenly at each other over the desk between them. Dr. Kirkland had a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. Berwald scowled.

"I though' we were going to talk about Pet'r," he ground out after several minutes of silence.

"We will, but it's best to get these pesky formalities out of the way first." He continued to meet Berwald's gaze unflinchingly, patiently waiting for him to answer the question he had posed. It was not a difficult question or threatening in any way, but Berwald felt like if he were to answer he'd be letting Dr. Kirkland _win_.

'_Are you currently on any medications_?' That was it. The answer was a simple, '_no_,' but Berwald clung to his response like the floating wreckage after a ship had sunk. He knew as well as Dr. Kirkland that the moment he complied and answered even the simplest of questions he would open himself up to answering more. The more questions he answered, the more personal they would be come, and very soon Peter wouldn't enter the discussion at all. This visit was not about Peter at all, it was about Berwald. This simultaneously annoyed and frightened him. Because if Peter wasn't discussed then that meant Berwald had personal reasons to be here.

Dr. Kirkland was a patient man.

Today, Berwald was not.

"No," he finally said and Dr. Kirkland smiled widely at him, unclasping his hands and uncapping his pen to write it down on a little notepad in front of him. Berwald wanted to lean across the desk and see what he was writing; it was a one-word answer, yet the doctor was scribbling several sentences.

"How is it having Tino living with you?"

"I don't see how that is important."

"Well," Dr. Kirkland raised an eyebrow, "it does effect Peter's home life. I am just curious how you are seeing the home situation."

Berwald fell silent once again. Not because he was going to decline an answer, he knew he couldn't resist forever (he was paying for this visit regardless of how much he spoke, after all). How was home life with Tino?

Tino was the most perfect person Berwald had ever met. He was kind and soft spoken. He was feisty and brave. But right now, he was frightened and broken and scared to show how he was truly feeling admist such harsh changes to his life. He was still kind and soft spoken, he still smiled, but his smiles were not as naturally bright as Berwald remembered. He was pale and prone to slipping into moments of dazed silence. He would wake in the middle of the night from terrors. He would not scream or claw, but he'd start awake, breathing heavy and sweating.

Berwald had been sleeping on the couch since Tino arrived – they were still new to the relationship, he didn't want to pressure it by forcing too much change to an already turbulent life too soon. Tino seemed to appreciate this; he visibly relaxed on the first night when Berwald made his intentions to sleep in the living room clear.

Last night, however, he was awakened by Tino calling out to him. He had gone into his room, hesitating at the door, only just peeking inside in case he had misheard. Tino was sitting up in bed, the bedside lamp lit and casting him in a warm glow. He had tear-streaked cheeks and was reaching out to Berwald with shaking hands.

"I don't want to be alone right now, Ber," his voice hitched and Berwald was at his side in a second, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and pressing his nose into his uneven hair. Tino clung to him and quietly cried until he fell asleep again. Berwald gently laid his head back onto the pillow, smoothed the hair from his eyes, and dropped a kiss to his forehead. He quietly let himself out of his bedroom and back to the living room where he was unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

Peter and Tino seemed to get along well enough. Peter was excited to have someone in the house that he could relate to, and Tino seemed to enjoy having the company of a child nearby. He laughed in earnest with Peter, his face lighting back up to its familiar glow. Berwald would find them huddled together on the couch at the end of the day, whispering to each other and laughing while a movie played on the TV in the background. The walls of his humble apartment were already filling up with childish drawings by both Peter and Tino. His fridge was covered in them. And Berwald had very quickly discovered that, while Peter clung to Berwald for many things, it was to Tino that he would truly open up. When Berwald asked how he was feeling, he'd shrug it off and smile; but, after Peter was in bed, Tino would relay how Peter was _actually_ doing. It oftentimes it was not always as well as the boy made it seem.

Only a week had elapsed and Berwald had decided to return to work for a few hours each day. He already loved coming home to his new, make-shift family. He would drive home and smile knowing that there were others waiting for him to arrive. The situation that brought them together was not pleasant, but he was enjoying the outcome. This made him feel incredibly guilty, like he was glad that Peter had been neglected and abused and sick, and glad that Tino had been so seriously hurt. This couldn't be farther from the truth, of course.

"It's complicated," he said at last and Dr. Kirkland nodded. Berwald was Peter's missing arm and Tino's missing leg. There was extra work around his small apartment, but he didn't mind. Peter and Tino were the missing pieces of his heart he had no idea he was living without. He mentally rolled his eyes at the thought - even though he found the words to be true.

"How are you handling the changes in your daily routine?" Personal questions now, it seemed. The ice-breakers were over at the question about medications.

"There hasn't been that much change," he said, and he believed this.

"What did your morning routine look like before Peter came to live with you?" What an odd question.

"Well," he rubbed his chin as he thought, "I'd wake up at six, shower, make breakfast, dress, go to work."

"And at work?"

"Tino'd bring me coffee, results, I'd go over my paperwork, meet with clients. Then go home."

"What did your routine look like this morning?"

"T'day..." He had been awoken by Tino sometime after midnight and had been awake since. Peter stumbled out of his room close to five after having a nightmare as well. He had taken the time to sooth him and get him back to bed for a few more hours. At six he finally dragged himself off the couch to sneak to the bathroom and shower. He then started making breakfast... He had wanted to make scrambled eggs and toast, but he forgot about the toast and burned it when Tino had called for him, asking for help making it into the bathroom for his own shower. His leg was sore this morning and causing him distress. Berwald had almost canceled his appointment to keep an eye on Tino, but Tino had insisted he keep it, that he would be _'very disappointed_' if he didn't come.

After saving the scrambled eggs from a certain, burnt demise, he went to wake Peter to get ready for his own appointment with Dr. Kirkland. He helped him get dressed (even though Peter insisted he could do it by himself) and encouraged him to go about the rest of his morning routine, hovering nearby in case Peter needed a second hand for something. He made sure Peter ate at least three full bites of breakfast and Tino had his coffee and a plate full of something to eat. Everything Tino would need to make dinner was laid out on the counter and ready for him so he wouldn't have to search through the kitchen. Berwald almost forgot to eat something himself until Tino hollered at him from the dining room as he and Peter were leaving, hopping through to the kitchen; he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, dropped a quick kiss to Tino's warm cheek, then him and Peter had left for Dr. Kirkland's office. Every day was much the same: wake, shower, attempt at breakfast, make sure Tino was alright, make sure Peter was alright, drop Peter off at various appointments or help him get ready for (Uncle) Matthias to take him out for the day.

And yet, he suddenly realized, here was no more consistency to his mornings. Some days he got a full night's rest, more often than not he was awoken by something, then unable to sleep again. He did not simply go to work, do his work, come home to a quiet house. He showed up to work at random times in the morning, couldn't concentrate on what little paperwork Emil left for him (Emil himself was an odd change to his routine), and had no one to act as his voice when he met with clients. Tino was not at the office; he had to get his own coffee.

He was hit with a nauseating feeling of sadness.

"You don't have to answer right now, Berwald," Dr. Kirkland broke through his reverie like a wrecking ball to a pane of glass. He had completely forgotten where he was and that Dr. Kirkland was even in the room with him. "We can talk more about your routines next week."

Berwald blinked at the clock on the wall behind Dr. Kirkland's head. Time had continued to pass while he got lost in his own thoughts. He was paying this man to watch him think. It was hard not to feel at least a little bit bitter about that. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

"I think you've made remarkable progress already, Berwald," Dr. Kirkland said warmly, rising to his feet and extending a hand to shake. "I will see you again next week." Berwald also stood and took his hand, nodding dumbly.

He would return next week and maybe then they would talk about Peter. Berwald knew that was unlikely to happen.

.

Tino had tried to make himself useful around the house; it was easier to find his motivation when nobody else was home, then he could take his time moving between tasks and nobody was around to witness him get frustrated. He started making dinner in the early afternoon. He enjoyed the mindless tasks of peeling and cubing potatoes, it was the perfect balance between letting his mind wander, but needing to focus enough to keep him from slipping too deep into his thoughts.

He was startled when the intercom for the door rang through the apartment. Tino froze and watched the inconspicuous, offending piece of technology on the wall while it alerted him to a visitor before hesitantly answering it.

"Hello?"

"Hi there, is this the Oxenstierna residence?"

"Yes...?"

"This is Mrs. Perrin here, I am Peter's social worker. May I come up?" Tino blinked at the speaker in front of him. Peter was with Berwald for an appointment with Dr. Kirkland; what was Tino going to do? He buzzed her in and waited nervously for the knock at the front door. Even though he was expecting it, he still jumped before opening it and letting the cheery, well-dressed woman into the apartment.

"Hello, Tino!" She warmly grasped his hand, only maintaining eye contact for a moment, then she did not hide the fact that she was looking around the house, eyeing any changes that had been made since Peter had started to live there.

"Berwald and Peter are at an appointment right now," Tino said quietly, following Mrs. Perrin as she let herself further into the house, wandering through the kitchen to the dining, and finally the living room; she paused along the way at the wall of drawings, looking over each one carefully. She muttered an, '_oh_?' before stopping in the living room and taking it in. There were children's movies scattered on the coffee table and all of Peter's art and ocean books were stacked near the armchair. "Yes, they are seeing a Dr. Kirkland, he's a psychiatrist," Tino felt his nervous habit building up on his tongue, ready to spill out more information that was needed, "Peter has an appointment and so does Berwald. I'm not sure they go in together right now, but Dr. Kirkland seems to think that it would be helpful for Peter to see that talking to a psychiatrist is normal, so that's why Berwald goes. Although, I think there's a lot on his mind after... you know... so it's an idea I fully support, do you need help with something?" He was alarmed when she let herself into Peter's bedroom, opening the door and flicking on the light.

"Will they be home soon?" she turned to him, still smiling. Tino swallowed and nodded after glancing at his watch.

"They should be home within the next 20 minutes at most."

"Excellent! You don't mind if I wait for them, do you? I would love a chance to speak to them both, to see how things are going. In the meantime, I can chat with you!" Tino did not want to chat with Mrs. Perrin. It was because of her that Peter had been placed into a poor foster home in the first place. Perhaps not directly, but she had told him that the Samworts were good and decent folk. He did not like Mrs. Perrin, no matter how much good she did since the Samworts; even though it was because of her that Peter was able to live with Berwald. It was also because of her that he had to.

He felt 'mama bear' roaring up inside him despite himself. He set his jaw into a firm line and held his hand out to the couch. He said, "by all means, make yourself comfortable." She thanked him and sat in the armchair. He glowered; that was _Berwald's_ chair, but he said nothing and lowered himself down onto the sofa.

"So Tino," she said. Her tone was cheery, Tino did not detect any sarcasm behind it and her smile was not forced, but he still felt a wave of annoyance wash over him. "Is it nice to be back at home?"

"Yes, I am really glad," this wasn't his home. He almost told her as much, but he held his tongue. Berwald had said that they were together for five years... he was suddenly very conscious of the fact that there were no photos on the walls to attest to that lie.

"Maybe we could have a cup of tea?" She asked. Tino appreciated that she seemed to sense the awkwardness about to descend upon them, searching for a menial task to break up their time together. Tino nodded and stood, wavering in his balance for a moment before making his way to the kitchen. He took glee in the momentary expression of guilt that crossed Mrs. Perrin's face.

Once he had arrived to the kitchen he realized that he did not know which cupboard Berwald kept his tea – or even if there was any tea in the house. He looked over his shoulder and Mrs. Perrin was watching him with concerned eyes. Dammit. He very slowly approached a cupboard that looked promising, it was next to the fridge, he recalled seeing spices in there one time. There were spices in the cupboard, but no sign of tea. The doors creaked as they shut. Shit.

Tino went through three more cupboards before he located anything promising – he found the mugs. After about five minutes of searching, and Mrs. Perrin's eyes heavy on his back, he reviewed his assemblage: he had managed to locate two mugs, a sieve, a teaspoon, half a jar of peanut butter, a box of crackers, a stack of coffee filters, and no tea.

What could he do with this?

"Is everything alright?" he heard Mrs. Perrin call to him from the living room and he whirled around, blocking his findings with his body.

"Oh yes, just... I get tired easily these days," he gestured to his artificial leg.

Thankfully, Tino was saved by the front door opening and Peter bounding into the kitchen. He ran straight to Tino and threw his arms around him in a crushing hug. He eyed the random assortment of items on the counter-top and looked up at him, confused, before his gaze fell to Mrs. Perrin.

"Hello there, Peter!" Mrs. Perrin appeared behind Tino and bent at the waist to greet the boy who took a step back, pressing into Tino's side. Tino dropped his hand to Peter's shoulder and hugged him closer.

"Pet'r, don't forget to take – Oh, Mrs. Perrin, I didn't know you were stoppin' by today," Berwald appeared, sliding out of his coat and hanging it on the pegs by the door. He strode confidently into the kitchen and placed himself on Peter's other side, also putting an arm around him. Tino's chest swelled with pride.

They were a family unit.

"I just thought I'd pop in to see how things are going," she straightened and smiled at Berwald. Tino couldn't help but feel she was assessing them, sizing them up. "Peter," she bent low again, "do you want to come into the living room and talk with me for a little while?" Peter shook his head and nuzzled closer to Tino's side, but he slowly peeled himself away when Berwald grunted and patted him. He cast a longing look over his shoulder as he followed his social worker to the living room.

Tino exhaled.

"She got here about 20 minutes ago – I wasn't sure what to do!" Berwald said nothing, his eyes fixed on the random collection of items piled on his counter. "Ah, I was trying to find tea..."

"What were you plannin' on doin' with the peanut butter?" Berwald turned to Tino, one eyebrow raised. His mouth was frowning, but his eyes were practically screaming in laughter.

"It seemed helpful at the time! Besides, I don't know where the tea is! Do you even _have_ tea? Or should I say 'we'... if not, then I'm adding it to the grocery list. Which reminds me, do you even keep a list, or do you just do a mental check when you run errands? Can I come with you next time you run errands? I feel like I spend too much time in one place – I need to get out! Not that I don't like staying here, it's very lovely and comfortable. Although, a bit plain. Do you think we could repaint and put up some pictures? Oh my God, Berwald, there's _no_ pictures of us anywhere! We have been together for _five years _and we have apparently never taken pictures together. I mean, according to... you know." He was very thankful that the rest of his nerves waited until Berwald came home before they overtook him; he'd rather have a verbal torrent to Berwald than Mrs. Perrin, "she makes me uneasy. I'm not sure I like her alone with Peter – who knows what they are talking about? Peter hasn't been having the best of days recently, what if he _says_ that? Do you think she'll take him away? Oh God, Berwald, what if he is moved to another house? After all that you-" he was silenced by Berwald very gently grabbing his face and pulling him into a soft kiss. His concerns died the moment Berwald's lips touched his and he felt himself melt into the larger man.

All of his troubles, the entire world, slipped away right out from under his feet and the only thing that mattered was his and Berwald's mouth moving in unison. He was warm, he was safe, he was perfect. He loved how Berwald took his time kissing him, feeling every last bit of him, testing every movement before moving on to the next. He loved how tentative Berwald's tongue was on his bottom lip, then how confident the moment Tino parted his lips. He loved how they both sucked in their breath through their nose as Tino tilted his chin and their kiss deepened. He slid his hands up Berwald's chest and looped around his neck while Berwald's moved away from his face, one tangling in his uneven hair. He really needed to get a haircut – this train of thought was immediately left behind when Berwald's other hand was suddenly on the small of his back, pressing the two of them closer together. Tino could hardly identify where his body ended and Berwald's began. And, for the moment, it didn't matter in the slightest.

_Oh yes_.

* * *

**AN:** I am STILL trying to update once a week - although I seem to have fallen off schedule a bit. Whoopsie!

Review? I adore you!


	11. Chapter 11

**Doctor O**

**Chapter 11**

* * *

_6 months later_

"You've made excellent progress, Mr. Oxenstierna," Dr. Kirkland rose to his feet to shake Berwald's hand, smiling.

"Thank you, doctor, it means a lot to hear from you." he wasn't sure about 'excellent progress', but a lot had changed in their professional relationship in the last six months, and today marked their last regularly scheduled appointment. He had gone from completely against meeting with Dr. Kirkland to welcoming each visit. By the end of their time working together, Berwald welcomed his appointments with the psychiatrist; it was a chance for him to open up without any negative consequences and work through his muddled emotions. He had always struggled at expressing himself, and he supposed in that regard, he had come a long way. Even Tino mentioned lightly one afternoon that he was getting better at voicing his feelings.

"I don't have to rely on your eyes so much," he had said, "I love your eyes, but it's nice to hear your voice, even if it isn't always pleasant." Which was true, it hadn't always been pleasant words to spill from his tired lips. Living with a young boy and grown man and both of them going through their own trauma was not easy. And as such, there were good days and bad. As Dr. Kirkland had told Berwald, "don't shoulder everything just because you feel guilty. You are just as important, even though you have all your limbs." He had to learn to say "no", which was never easy.

For example, refusing to make a leg for Tino. This decision came as a shock to everyone except Dr. Kirkland. It was too much though, too emotional. He struggled with his job at the best of times, despite loving it. Hearing the stories of those who needed his help broke his heart, and having to turn around and do it for the man he loved would have broken him; especially so soon after Peter... Not everyone understood, even Tino was taken aback by Berwald's refusal. Not to mention, Tino had never heard Berwald put his foot down for anything regarding him, Tino always got his way and he had wanted Berwald to make that new part of him.

"I can't, T'no, I will put too much of myself into it and then there will be nothing left... I will be a shell." Tino had refused to speak to Berwald for several days, giving him the cold shoulder in the mornings while they both helped Peter get ready for the day, eating breakfast as a family unit to give the illusion that nothing was amiss, and then shutting himself away in the bedroom any other time. Tino came around eventually, of course, once Berwald referred him to another, capable prosthetist. He wasn't happy, but once Berwald could communicate in words (thanks to help from Dr. Kirkland) how upset he would be if he had to build a leg for Tino, his iciness melted and he hugged Berwald, apologizing for being so selfish and soothing him until Berwald no longer felt so entirely guilty for saying no in the first place.

Peter got a firm "no" from Berwald when he asked if he could be home schooled. Peter had made remarkable progress with Dr. Kirkland himself, he had gone from a defiant boy eager to lash out and break rules (a very difficult few months, and thank God it was only a few months) back to his cheery self. He still had breakdowns, but Berwald and him would then go to see Dr. Kirkland together, and with the doctor's help, they were able to talk through their differences and settle things. Like school.

Dr. Kirkland had given Peter the okay to return to school, but Peter still refused. For the first few weeks Berwald had let it slide, sure that it was only because he didn't feel ready. The day Berwald announced to Peter he was returning to school on Monday, both the boy and Tino had risen up in a screaming match at the dinner table. Peter kept insisting life was unfair and he was going to be teased, Tino insisting he was just a boy and that was too much pressure, and "Goddammit, Berwald, if he says he's not ready, let him be!" But, someone had to be the parent, _someone_ had to recognize that Peter was handling himself at home much better than when he had first arrived, happily reading books and watching cartoons during the day and would even help out with housework on weekends (after much prompting from Tino). Someone had to be the bad guy, and that someone was Berwald, since Tino was too much of a bleeding heart.

Of course, by Wednesday, Peter had already made new friends and had a play-date organized for that weekend. Tino had crept up to Berwald as he lay on the couch, half asleep, knelt beside him and, "I'm sorry I quarrelled with you about Peter and school. You were right, it was what he needed. Sometimes I forget that I can trust your judgment." They had kissed then, briefly, before Tino backed away to go to bed.

That was the one thing that had not changed.

Berwald still slept on the couch. He didn't mind, he was more concerned for Tino's comfort, and in the grand scheme of things, their relationship was still so new. But, oh, Berwald longed to sleep in his own bed. On a rare Sunday afternoon (when Tino wasn't mad at him and locking himself away in the room), Berwald would nap in his own bed, catch up on the sleep he wasn't getting on the couch; it was always when he slept the best and when he awoke the happiest - especially if it was Tino waking him by running his hands through Berwald's hair, softly announcing that dinner would be ready soon.

Work was slowly returning to normal. It wouldn't be normal until Tino returned, but Emil did his best. Most of the regular clientele didn't like him at first, but they grew to understand his dry sense of humour and no-nonsense attitude. He completely overhauled how the office ran (much to Berwald's annoyance, but Eduard and Ravis' delight). He had an excellent sense of how the office should run and processed most new referrals himself. He created a new patient sheet to be filled out, which ended up cutting consult times in half, avoiding all the trivial questions that Berwald would normally have to ask, the patients themselves filling in their medical history. Emil would demand all pertinent records be sent to their office before a consult date and would cancel appointments outright if he didn't receive that information. A bit harsh, Berwald thought, but it kept their office running efficiently.

Emil refused to bring coffee to Berwald. Berwald ended up buying a fancy coffee machine for the lunch room to compensate. Raivis named it "Shirley" and would throw a fit if she was dirty when he came in to make himself a cup of coffee in the late mornings.

"Berwald?" Dr. Kirkland called him back to the present, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "was there anything else?"

"No, sorry doctor," he tried to smile pleasantly, the emotion still felt unfamiliar stretching across his face, "thank you very much."

"Anytime. Feel free to call me if you need anything. Give my regards to Tino." Berwald thanked him once more and exited the office, holding his hand out for Peter who was colouring on the floor in the waiting room.

"Let's get you back to school, Pet'r,"

"Do I have to go back? It's just gym and stupid math class left today."

"Yes," Berwald said, using his 'no nonsense tone' that he had pulled up from some well of paternal instincts. Warmth spread in his chest as Peter offered no more complaint and stood, sliding his small hand into Peter's.

His social worker had briefly suggested moving him to a new household during a particularly rough patch during Peter's healing. He had gone several weeks refusing to speak to anyone, including Tino, and kicked and screamed if Berwald tried to take him to see Dr. Kirkland. Only Mrs. Perrin had been able to calm him down, arriving at their small apartment at Berwald's request. He didn't know what to do, Peter had broken all of the cups in the kitchen and was moving on to plates when he called the social worker. She took Peter to his room and shut the door, talking to him in hushed tones while Berwald swept up the floor and Tino cried in the bedroom.

He was grieving, he was upset, and he was always at his lowest when he came home from visiting his birth mother. She had slipped further into her depression and was admitted to a treatment facility for her addictions. Peter didn't understand that there were things wrong with her, and he didn't understand why her boyfriend was not allowed to see Peter without supervision, even though he didn't like the man, it was confusing to his young mind. Peter had exploded out of his room that evening, Mrs. Perrin hot on his tail, and he threw his arms around Berwald's waist, sobbing into his shirt. "I'm sorry, I don't wanna leave, don't let her take me away. This is home and I love you and mama!" Berwald looked imploringly to Mrs. Perrin. Once Peter was soothed and quietly in bed, she had questioned him on his ability to handle Peter.

"It's not easy every day and it's nothing like how I thought it was going to be," he had admitted around a steaming cup of tea, "but I wouldn't give him up willingly. He's only been living here a few months, but he is my son."

"Foster son," the woman corrected and Berwald shook his head and insisted, "_son_." And nobody was going to tell him otherwise. Tino had snuck out of the bedroom right at that moment and moved to stand beside Berwald, dropping a shaking hand to his shoulder in support. Mrs. Perrin said nothing else about transferring Peter to another home's care, but she did courier forms for permanent guardianship and a note for Berwald to consider adoption. Berwald filled out those forms immediately.

Berwald dropped Peter off at school, with minor grumbling, but he left the car with a bounce in his step with the promise of ice cream for dessert.

The drive to the office was short; the bells jingled as he opened the door, and his breath caught in his chest when those violet-blue eyes looked up and smiled at him.

"Good afternoon, Dr. O, welcome back!"

_Tino was back where he belonged._

.

Peter always slept well in his bed.

He slowly started to differentiate between his life with his birth mother and her boyfriend, the Samworts, and his current family. They were all different experiences, but only one of them left him feeling safe at night. He wasn't always the nicest to Berwald and Tino as he should be, he knew when he was being difficult, but he couldn't help it. There was so much anger in him that demanded to be released, and he didn't know how.

Dr. Kirkland tried to teach him different ways or suggest what he could do, but nothing worked except lashing out. Some days Tino would hug him tight and let him cry, and that helped a lot, but he tried to keep it inside when Berwald was home. He so desperately didn't want to disappoint him by being a cry-baby.

He's not exactly sure when he started calling Tino 'mama'. It just sort of slipped out and nobody ever bothered to correct him.

When Peter would have a bad dream at night and Tino would soothe him back to sleep, he reminded Peter of his birth mother before his father disappeared. Cool hands on his forehead, a warm presence nearby and ready to protect him if anything scary came out of the closet or up from under the bed. Tino would give him a glass of water or sing him slow songs in a funny language until he fell asleep again. Tino knew what to do when he was scared in the dark, Berwald tried, but Tino was the one Peter knew he could call for if he needed help.

He had been frightened at first about talking about his family at school. Would the other kids make fun of him for having two dads? But, there was one boy in his class (who had a brother a year older) that also had two dads! He didn't call one of them 'mama' like Peter called Tino, though, he called one 'dad' and the other 'papa'.

His new friend did not think his arm was strange at all; most days Peter forgot he had a prosthetic arm.

Peter's favourite time of day was when the bell rang at three. Most kids enjoyed the fact that school was finished and they were free to go home and do normal kid things; Peter enjoyed this too, but what he liked best of all was the fact that he could race out the front doors and Berwald's car would be waiting for him. The door would be unlocked, Peter would slide into the passenger seat and Berwald would immediately ask, "how was your day? Did you learn anything?" It was simple to delight in this, perhaps, but it was routine. Having someone waiting for him to take him home, to feed him an afternoon snack, then quietly remind him to do his homework. Tino (mama) would be in the kitchen peeling potatoes for dinner, stirring something delicious-smelling on the stove, something he could eat and he didn't have to make it himself. Tino would tell Peter to wash up and set the table while Berwald helped him with difficult math problems.

Tino was the soft, loving character in their home, and Berwald was the strong protector. He understood that they were both men and that they were not married, but he looked to them like he would a mother and father. He knew that they were in a relationship (despite not sleeping in the same room like his birth mother and her boyfriend had) and that they loved each other and him, and all together they were family.

.

Tino's hands were trembling as he held the key in the lock to the office door.

How long had it been since he'd been to work? How many days and weeks and months had crawled by since he had been back int he world that was familiar to him, that was normal? His breaths were shaky and his palms were sweaty, but his mouth was stretched into a wide smile. He unlocked the door and the bells chimed as he opened it.

_Home. The office. He was back. _

He took in all of the sights and smells of the familiar space; everything looked exactly as he remembered it and he felt himself relax the further he wandered into the office. He flicked on all the lights, went around his desk and turned on his computer, then he wandered to the kitchen.

The morning passed like they always used to before his accident with only a handful of minor hiccups from the changes Emil had made around the office. He still insisting in working at Dr. O's clinic part time, cutting Tino's hours in half until he was fully "back on his feet" so to speak. Tino didn't mind working less, he was just excited to have an opportunity to get out of the house and feel properly useful again.

Raivis and Eduard had come in at the same time, both excitedly greeting Tino with warm hugs. "We missed you so much," Raivis had said, "you better come out for drinks with me tonight to celebrate!" Eduard cried with a look in his eye that told Tino there was nothing he could say to get out of it.

Seeing Berwald at work again was like the last pieces of his puzzle-of-a-life snapping back into place. He froze in the doorway and looked started, despite knowing that Tino would be here.

He crossed the room and grabbed Tino, hugging him tight, burying his face in Tino's hair (which had, thankfully, mostly grown back to its original state).

"I missed you so much," Berwald murmured before releasing him. They smiled happily at each other before Berwald cleared his throat and excused himself to his office to work on paperwork.

Mr. Daniels stopped in briefly to give Tino a 'Welcome Home' card and shook his hand warmly, "glad to see you back where you belong, Tino."

At the end of the day Eduard grabbed Tino by the arm before he could duck out of the office with Berwald and shoved him into his car.

"I'll get him home in one piece, Ber!" Eduard called leaving Berwald standing open-mouthed in the parking lot.

The table they always sat at was just as sticky as it always, the lighting was dim to hide the grime, and while the song was different than the last time he was here, it was still too loud. Tino smiled as he and Eduard slid into their seats and waved down a pretty waitress. Eduard ordered their usual beers and just before she left to get them, Tino called her back to the table.

"I'll get a shot of vodka, tequila, and cream as well," the waitress raised an eyebrow and nodded, Eduard choked out a laugh.

"What do you want that for?"

"To cheers to being back here," Tino said, laughing nervously.

They discussed work, Eduard filled him in on the latest hospital gossip.

"Doctors Bondevik and Kohler are super close," he said into his glass, "it spread like wildfire through the hospital that they are in an official relationship. I thought I heard something from Emil that they are engaged, but nothing else has come up about that, yet. But some of the nurses caught them going at it in a supply closet last week." Tino threw back his shot and laughed openly.

"They are engaged! They were over the other night and announced it to Berwald and I, but I'm not sure they want that to be public – in a _supply closet_?! One of the big ones or...?" Eduard shook his head.

"I wish I had seen it myself, just to see how they could have been doing that in such a small space. Dr. Bondevik looks like he's pretty flexible though, so..." Tino felt his face heat up discussing the sexual life of his kind-of-son's adoptive uncle, mentally telling himself _not to visualize_... He cleared his throat and switched subjects.

"How is Laura doing?"

By the end of the evening Tino was pleasantly tingly.

He stumbled through the front door, not used to the sensation of walking while inebriated with an artificial leg; he grumbled to himself, catching his balance on the door frame.

"Alright'?" Berwald's voice drifted through the kitchen from the living room, where Tino found him reading a book in his chair, glasses slid down his nose.

"Mm, yes. That was a fun evening! Is Peter asleep?" Berwald hummed in response, turning the page of his book. He wasn't looking Tino, this bothered him. He stood and watched his boyfriend read quietly while he was standing in the living room, pleasantly drunk. He should be doing something about the situation. He should be taking advantage of Tino in his delicate state of mind. He should be smothering him in passionate kisses and Tino would mutter about how handsome and strong Berwald was and they would spend the evening tangled up in each other. And Berwald was just _reading_.

Tino crossed the room and threw himself into Berwald's lap, earning a startled grunt.

"Pay attention to _me_," Tino pouted. Berwald blinked at him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. That was not the reaction Tino had been looking for. He was looking for sloppy, drunken kisses.

"Go have a shower, T'no, then get ready for bed. It's late, and you're going to wake up Pet'r." Tino glared, but did as he was told, Berwald still chuckling behind him, returning to his book. He threw one last haughty pout over his shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom.

...

"Berwald," Tino hesitated by the bedroom door, rubbing a towel on his damp hair and watching as Berwald tucked the sheets into the couch cushions, his night shirt still unbuttoned from when he had thrown it on before brushing his teeth. Berwald paused and turned to look at him, his face passive but his eyes questioning, '_yes? Is everything okay_?' "Everything is fine," Tino assured, "I just... think that..." he wasn't exactly sure what words he was looking for, or even if he could say them if he found them. Berwald's eyes flashed in confusion, trying to decipher what Tino was trying to say, trying to help him while he floundered for his words.

He gave up looking for those words and instead marched across the living room and grabbed the sheets that Berwald had just tucked in and ripped them off the couch. Berwald made a sound of astonishment from the back of his throat, Tino firmly grabbed his hand and turned to face him. He still said nothing, the words would have died before they even got past his throat.

_It was time._

Berwald had slept on the couch for long enough - too long. Tino could no longer refuse to let him sleep in his own room. And it's not that he didn't want to share a bed with him, his boss, his _boyfriend_, but he felt so... nervous. Even if nothing sexual was going to happen, sleeping was such an intimate task to him now. Before his accident, he would have jumped at the chance to share a bed with the man he had a crush on, but now... now he was utterly exposed when he was in bed. He could no longer fake being whole, that under his pajamas it would be clear that a piece of him was missing. Even though he consciously knew Berwald was fully aware of this, he still didn't want him to see. And now, after six months of sharing a living space and being together, but _not together_, it all seemed rather silly.

He pulled Berwald towards the bedroom door, but when he only just crossed the threshold, Berwald tugged back and forced him to stop.

"T'no," his voice choked and Tino turned to face him, his heart racing erratically in his chest; his hands were shaking he was so nervous - which was silly! He shouldn't be nervous. This was _Berwald._ They loved each other, and dammit, he wanted the man he loved to have a decent night's sleep for once. Tino was being selfish, he should tried harder to insist that _he_ sleep on the couch, but Berwald always resisted. "...Are you sure you want me... with you?"

"Berwald," yes! He wanted to scream that yes, he had wanted Berwald with him for years. He wanted to lay down and fall asleep with the image of Berwald's face plastered on the backs of his eyelids and in the morning when he opened his eyes, he wanted to see Berwald laying there next to him. But his voice failed him and his nerves kept him frozen, unable to nod his head. He stood there, shaking, and Berwald's eyes very clearly translated this silence to, '_no_' and Tino saw the heartbreak there, the uncertainty behind the love. Berwald started to pull away even more, sliding his hand out of Tino's and turning to leave, quietly muttering that Tino didn't have to do anything, he was fine on the couch, they didn't have to share a room, their relationship was too young for such a large step, even if nothing were to happen.

Tino lurched forward before Berwald could make his escape and threw his arms around his middle, burying his face in Berwald's back.

"Stay," his voice finally found him, "I need you. I need you next to me. I'm ready to have you next to me, but you should know that I'm- I'm not-" Berwald turned in his arms and returned the embrace, leaning down and covering Tino's mouth with his own.

"You are so beautiful," Berwald said quietly, "so handsome, and so perfect to me." Tino knew, then, that he was still _whole_ in Berwald's eyes, and nothing would ever change that.

...

The realization that Tino was in love with Berwald was not unexpected. It came to him in slow, comforting waves throughout the day, some quietly washing over him, some crashing.

Tino traced his hand down the side of Berwald's face and leaned in to kiss him gently. Berwald stirred in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open and blearily focusing on Tino as he smiled down at him.

"Mm, mornin' T'no," Berwald's lips curved into one of those rare, genuine, soft smiles that were reserved only for Tino, his heart danced and he kissed his lover again.

"Good morning," he said, "I _love_ you." He repeated those three words and dropped kisses onto Berwald's forehead and nose and each of his cheeks and his lips again.

Berwald wrapped his arms around Tino's waist and pulled him closer until they could both feel the other's heart beating steadily in their chests. "I love you too," Berwald sighed happily; Tino's Dr. O.

* * *

**-The End-**

* * *

**AN: **I will write an epilogue for this eventually. So, yanno, keep your eyes out for that.

There will likely be a sequel to Paging Doctors by the way, and maybe for this one too! I love this medical universe I've created, so I think I will revisit it for a few more stories in the future!

Listen, all y'all who reviewed, once, twice, or with every chapter, THANK YOU SO MUCH. You all kept me motivated to keep going. All my regular reviewers, you know who you are, I adore you and I love you and I thank you so much for encouraging me every chapter.


End file.
